We were very intimate with him indeed.

Dolly, dear!" "Yes, ma." "You remember our particular friend Lord Viscount Tattersalls ?" "Was he a bishop ?" asked Miss Fanny Newt.
"Law! no, my dear.

He was a--he was a--why, he was a Viscount, you know--a Viscount." "Oh! a Viscount ?" "Yes, a Viscount." "Ah! a Viscount." "Well, Dolly dear, do you see how much Mr.Abel Newt resembles Lord Tattersalls ?" "Yes, ma." "It's very striking, isn't it ?" "Yes, ma." "Or now I look, I think he is even more like the Marquis of Crockford.
Don't you think so ?" "Yes, ma ?" "Very like indeed." "Yes, ma." "Dolly, dear, don't you think his nose is like the Duke of Wellington's?
You remember the Wellington nose, my child ?" "Yes, ma." "Or is it Lord Brougham's that I mean ?" "Yes, ma." "Yes, dear." "May I present my brother Abel, Miss Tally ?" asked Fanny Newt.
"Yes, I'm sure," said Miss Tully.
Fanny Newt turned just as a song began in the other room, out of which opened the conservatory.
"Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me: I said there was naething I hated like men-- The deuce gae wi'm to believe'me, believe me, The deuce gae wi'm to believe me." The rooms were hushed as the merry song rang out.

The voice of the singer was arch, and her eye flashed slyly on Abel Newt as she finished, and a murmur of pleasure rose around her.
Abel leaned upon the piano, with his eyes fixed upon the singer.

He was fully conscious of the surprise he had betrayed to sister Fanny when she spoke suddenly of Mrs.Alfred Dinks.