As the ladies passed breathless and trembling in the vastness of the magnificent solitude, he threw a knowing, killing glance at the fair strangers, as much as to say, 'Ain't I a fine fellow ?' They thought so, I am sure.
'WHO IS THAT ?' hisses out Mrs.Chuff, when we were about fifty yards off him at the other end of the room.
'Tiggs!' says I, in a similar whisper.
'Pretty comfortable this, isn't it, my dear ?' says Maine in a free-and-easy way to Mrs.Sackville; 'all the magazines, you see--writing materials--new works--choice library, containing every work of importance--what have we here?
--"Dugdale's Monasticon," a most valuable and, I believe, entertaining book.' And proposing to take down one of the books for Mrs.Maine's inspection, he selected Volume VII., to which he was attracted by the singular fact that a brass door-handle grew out of the back.

Instead of pulling out a book, however, he pulled open a cupboard, only inhabited by a lazy housemaid's broom and duster, at which he looked exceedingly discomfited; while Nelson Collingwood, losing all respect, burst into a roar of laughter.
'That's the rummest book I ever saw,' says Nelson.

'I wish we'd no others at Merchant Taylors'.' 'Hush, Nelson!' cries Mrs.Chuff, and we went into the other magnificent apartments.
How they did admire the drawing-room hangings, (pink and silver brocade, most excellent wear for London,) and calculated the price per yard; and revelled on the luxurious sofas; and gazed on the immeasurable looking-glasses.
'Pretty well to shave by, eh ?' says Maine to his mother-in-law.

(He was getting more abominably conceited every minute.) 'Get away, Sackville,' says she, quite delighted, and threw a glance over her shoulder, and spread out the wings of the red tabinet, and took a good look at herself; so did Mrs.Sackville--just one, and I thought the glass reflected a very smiling, pretty creature.
But what's a woman at a looking-glass?
Bless the little dears, it's their place.

They fly to it naturally.