They are distressingly dull.

My head aches at the very word." And she held out her hand and took the golden cup of hot drink which the negress offered her.
"Aye," replied Lentulus, not in the least subdued, "where _will_ we be, if Pompeius and Caesar become friends?
If there is no war, no proscription, no chance to make a sesterce in a hurry!" "My dear brother," said Claudia, still more languidly, and yawning at length, as she handed back the cup, "have I not said that the mere mention of politics makes my head ache ?" "Then let it," said the other, brutally; "I must have some plain words with you." And he pointed toward the door.

The two serving-maids took the hint, and retired.
Claudia settled her head back on the pillows, and folded her hands as if to resign herself to a very dull tete-a-tete.
"Have you any new debts ?" demanded Lentulus.
"What a tiresome question," murmured the lady.

"No--no--yes; I owe Pomponius the fancier--I don't quite know how much--for my last Maltese lap dog." "Thank the gods that is all," went on her brother-in-law.

"Now listen to me.