Mr.Farquhar was susceptible on the point of 'blood'-- his own circulating fluid, which animated a short and somewhat flabby person, being, he considered, of very superior quality.
'By the by,' he said, with a certain pomposity counteracted by a lisp, 'what an ath Barton makth of himthelf, about that Bridmain and the Counteth, ath she callth herthelf.

After you were gone the other evening, Mithith Farquhar wath telling him the general opinion about them in the neighbourhood, and he got quite red and angry.

Bleth your thoul, he believth the whole thtory about her Polish huthband and hith wonderful ethcapeth; and ath for her--why, he thinkth her perfection, a woman of motht refined fellingth, and no end of thtuff.' Mr.Ely smiled.

'Some people would say our friend Barton was not the best judge of refinement.

Perhaps the lady flatters him a little, and we men are susceptible.