"When you've indulged your humour, sir," he said stiffly, "perhaps you'll consider the matter of this dispatch." But Sir Terence laughed more uproariously than ever.

He came to stand beside Tremayne, and slapped him heartily on the shoulder.
"Ye'll kill me, Ned!" he protested.

"For God's sake, not so glum.

It's that makes ye ridiculous." "I am sorry you find me ridiculous." "Nay, then, it's glad ye ought to be.

By my soul, if Sylvia tempts you, man, why the devil don't ye just succumb and have done with it?
She's handsome enough and well set up with her air of an Amazon, and she rides uncommon straight, begad! Indeed it's a broth of a girl she is in the hunting-field, the ballroom, or at the breakfast-table, although riper acquaintance may discover her not to be quite all that you imagine her at present.