What the deuce do you mean?
'Gad, man, speak out!" "Do you not think that Mr.Monderling--Mandolin--what's his name, eh ?--do you not think that he is a very handsome young fellow ?" said Mr.
Vernon, drawing out his snuffbox and offering it to his kinsman.
"Damn your snuff," quoth Sir Miles, in great choler, as he rejected the proffered courtesy with a vehemence that sent half the contents of the box upon the joint eyes and noses of the two canine favourites dozing at his feet.

The setter started up in an agony; the spaniel wheezed and sniffled and ran off, stopping every moment to take his head between his paws.

The old gentleman continued without heeding the sufferings of his dumb friends,--a symptom of rare discomposure on his part.
"Do you mean to insinuate, Mr.Vernon, that my niece--my elder niece, Lucretia Clavering--condescends to notice the looks, good or bad, of Mr.Mainwaring?
'Sdeath, sir, he is the son of a land-agent! Sir, he is intended for trade! Sir, his highest ambition is to be partner in some fifth-rate mercantile house!" "My dear Sir Miles," replied Mr.Vernon, as he continued to brush away, with his scented handkerchief, such portions of the prince's mixture as his nankeen inexpressibles had diverted from the sensual organs of Dash and Ponto--"my dear Sir Miles, ca n'empeche pas le sentiment!" "Empeche the fiddlestick! You don't know Lucretia.

There are many girls, indeed, who might not be trusted near any handsome flute-playing spark, with black eyes and white teeth; but Lucretia is not one of those; she has spirit and ambition that would never stoop to a mesalliance; she has the mind and will of a queen,--old Queen Bess, I believe." "That is saying much for her talent, sir; but if so, Heaven help her intended! I am duly grateful for the blessings you propose me!" Despite his anger, the old gentleman could not help smiling.
"Why, to confess the truth, she is hard to manage; but we men of the world know how to govern women, I hope,--much more how to break in a girl scarce out of her teens.

As for this fancy of yours, it is sheer folly: Lucretia knows my mind.