Here was a man, hungry for affection, and one relation asked him to dinner next Monday, and another invited him to shoot pheasants at Christmas.
Here was a beardless young sprig, who patronised him, and vouchsafed to ask him whether he found London was changed.
"I don't know whether it's changed," says the Colonel, biting his nails; "I know it's not what I expected to find it." "To-day it's really as hot as I should thing it must be in India," says young Mr.Barnes Newcome.
"Hot!" says the Colonel, with a grin.

"It seems to me you are all cool enough here." "Just what Sir Thomas de Boots said, sir," says Barnes, turning round to his father.

"Don't you remember when he came home from Bombay?
I recollect his saying, at Lady Featherstone's, one dooced hot night, as it seemed to us; I recklect his saying that he felt quite cold.

Did you know him in India, Colonel Newcome?
He's liked at the Horse Guards, but he's hated in his regiment." Colonel Newcome here growled a wish regarding the ultimate fate of Sir Thomas de Boots, which we trust may never be realised by that distinguished cavalry officer.
"My brother says he's going to Newcome, Barnes, next week," said the Baronet, wishing to make the conversation more interesting to the newly arrived Colonel.

"He was saying so just when you came in, and I was asking him what took him there ?" "Did you ever hear of Sarah Mason ?" says the Colonel.
"Really, I never did," the Baronet answered.
"Sarah Mason?
No, upon my word, I don't think I ever did, said the young man.
"Well, that's a pity too," the Colonel said, with a sneer.