'It's grown yellow in the service as it is.' 'Its master has grown yellow in the service, if you mean that, my friend,' said Mr Tigg; 'in the patriotic service of an ungrateful country.

You are making it two-and-six, I think ?' 'I'm making it,' returned the shopman, 'what it always has been--two shillings.

Same name as usual, I suppose ?' 'Still the same name,' said Mr Tigg; 'my claim to the dormant peerage not being yet established by the House of Lords.' 'The old address ?' 'Not at all,' said Mr Tigg; 'I have removed my town establishment from thirty-eight, Mayfair, to number fifteen-hundred-and-forty-two, Park Lane.' 'Come, I'm not going to put down that, you know,' said the shopman with a grin.
'You may put down what you please, my friend,' quoth Mr Tigg.

'The fact is still the same.

The apartments for the under-butler and the fifth footman being of a most confounded low and vulgar kind at thirty-eight, Mayfair, I have been compelled, in my regard for the feelings which do them so much honour, to take on lease for seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years, renewable at the option of the tenant, the elegant and commodious family mansion, number fifteen-hundred-and-forty-two Park Lane.