Characteristically, because he would uphold himself against mankind, his weather-glass against weather, and his clock against time.
By Mr.Sapsea's side on the table are a writing-desk and writing materials.

Glancing at a scrap of manuscript, Mr.Sapsea reads it to himself with a lofty air, and then, slowly pacing the room with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, repeats it from memory: so internally, though with much dignity, that the word 'Ethelinda' is alone audible.
There are three clean wineglasses in a tray on the table.

His serving-maid entering, and announcing 'Mr.Jasper is come, sir,' Mr.
Sapsea waves 'Admit him,' and draws two wineglasses from the rank, as being claimed.
'Glad to see you, sir.

I congratulate myself on having the honour of receiving you here for the first time.' Mr.Sapsea does the honours of his house in this wise.
'You are very good.

The honour is mine and the self-congratulation is mine.' 'You are pleased to say so, sir.