"My brother, sir, is an artist--" "Be easy, sir: I am sure that he intended none.

For the rest," pursued Brother Copas with a glance at Mr.Colt and a twinkle, "if we had time, all four of us here, to tell how by choice or necessity we come to be dressed as we are, I dare say our stories might prove amusing as the Calenders' in _The Arabian Nights_." "You remind me," said Mr.Isidore, "zat I at any rate must not keep zese good Territorials standing idle.

Another time--at your service--" He waved a hand and hurried off to give an instruction to the sergeant-major.

His brother followed and overtook him.
"Damn it all, Isidore! You might remember that Merchester is my constituency, and my majority less than half a hundred." "_Hein_?
For what else am I here but to helb you to increase it ?" "Then why the devil start by offending that old chap as you did ?" "Eh?
I offended him somehow.

Zat is certain: zough why on earth he should object to having his dress admired--" Mr.Isidore checked his speech upon a sudden surmise.