A DEJEUNER DANSANT given at his house last week cost, who knows how much?
The mere flowers for the room and bouquets for the ladies cost four hundred pounds.

That man in drab trousers, coming crying down the stops, is a dun: Lord Loughcorrib has ruined him, and won't see him: that is his lordship peeping through the blind of his study at him now.

Go thy ways, Loughcorrib, thou art a Snob, a heartless pretender, a hypocrite of hospitality; a rogue who passes forged notes upon society;--but I am growing too eloquent.
You see that nice house, No.

23, where a butcher's boy is ringing the area-bell.

He has three muttonchops in his tray.