Mr.Caryll is from France." "Ye'll be a Jacobite, no doubt, then," were her first, uncompromising words to the guest.
Mr.Caryll made her another bow.

"If I were, I should make no secret of it with your ladyship," he answered with that irritating suavity in which he clothed his most obvious sarcasms.
Her ladyship opened her eyes a little wider.

Here was a tone she was unused to.

"And what may your business with his lordship be ?" "His lordship's business, I think," answered Mr.Caryll in a tone of such exquisite politeness and deference that the words seemed purged of all their rudeness.
"Will you answer me so, sir ?" she demanded, nevertheless, her voice quivering.
"My love!" interpolated his lordship hurriedly, his florid face aflush.
"We are vastly indebted to Mr.Caryll, as you shall learn.

It was he who saved Hortensia." "Saved the drab, did he?
And from what, pray ?" "Madam!" It was Hortensia who spoke.