Write a book yourself." * * * * * Maltravers had just finished this letter when Ferrers entered impatiently.

"Will you ride out ?" said he.

"I have sent the breakfast away; I saw that breakfast was a vain hope to-day--indeed, my appetite is gone." "Pshaw!" said Maltravers.
"Pshaw! Humph! for my part I like well-bred people." "I have had a letter from Cleveland." "And what the deuce has that got to do with the chocolate ?" "Oh, Lumley, you are insufferable; you think of nothing but yourself, and self with you means nothing that is not animal." "Why, yes; I believe I have some sense," replied Ferrers, complacently.
"I know the philosophy of life.

All unfledged bipeds are animals, I suppose.

If Providence had made me graminivorous, I should have eaten grass; if ruminating, I should have chewed the cud; but as it has made me a carnivorous, culinary, and cachinnatory animal, I eat a cutlet, scold about the sauce, and laugh at you; and this is what you call being selfish!" It was late at noon when Maltravers found himself at the palazzo of Madame de Ventadour.