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I count myself a man of the world, accomplished, CAP-A-PIE. So do you, Challoner. And you, Mr. Desborough? 'Oh yes, returned the young man. 'Well then, Mr. Sir, as civilised men, what do we do? I will show you. You take in a paper? 'I take, said Mr. Godall solemnly, 'the best paper in the world, the Standard. 'Good, resumed Somerset.
Desborough returned to the Divan, the Prince, opening a door upon the other side, admitted Mrs. Luxmore. 'Madam and my very good friend, said he, 'is my face so much changed that you no longer recognise Prince Florizel in Mr. Godall? 'To be sure! she cried, looking at him through her glasses.
And if, as I suppose, your story is a silly one, you need have no delicacy with us, who are two of the silliest men in England. My name is Godall, Theophilus Godall; my friend is Major Alfred Hammersmith or at least, such is the name by which he chooses to be known.
'I must not take a cigar, said Somerset. 'Indeed! said Mr. Godall. 'But now I come to look at you more closely, I perceive that you are changed. My poor boy, I hope there is nothing wrong? Somerset burst into tears. On a certain day of lashing rain in the December of last year, and between the hours of nine and ten in the morning, Mr.
I hope and believe you will be able to forgive me this unpleasant evening; and for men of your stamp it will be enough to know that you are conferring a considerable favour." "Your Highness," said the Major, "must pardon my bluntness. I am unable to hide what I know. For some time back I have suspected Major Hammersmith, but Mr. Godall is unmistakable.
Godall is going to do something for us. That is what brings us here. 'Who was Mrs. Desborough? said Challoner, in the tone of a man of society. 'She was a Miss Luxmore, returned Harry. 'You fellows will be sure to like her, for she is much cleverer than I. She tells wonderful stories, too; better than a book. And just then the door opened, and Mrs. Desborough entered.
"I have still a pocket-book tolerably well lined, and I need not say how readily I should share my wealth with Godall. But I must know to what end: you must certainly tell us what you mean." The young man seemed to awaken: he looked uneasily from one to the other, and his face flushed deeply. "You are not fooling me?" he asked. "You are indeed ruined men like me?"
The entrance was adorned with one of those gigantic Highlanders of wood which have almost risen to the standing of antiquities; and across the window-glass, which sheltered the usual display of pipes, tobacco, and cigars, there ran the gilded legend: 'Bohemian Cigar Divan, by T. Godall. The interior of the shop was small, but commodious and ornate; the salesman grave, smiling, and urbane; and the two young men, each puffing a select regalia, had soon taken their places on a sofa of mouse-coloured plush and proceeded to exchange their stories.
'I am now, said Somerset, 'a barrister; but Providence and the attorneys have hitherto denied me the opportunity to shine. A select society at the Cheshire Cheese engaged my evenings; my afternoons, as Mr. Godall could testify, have been generally passed in this divan; and my mornings, I have taken the precaution to abbreviate by not rising before twelve.
Godall sat in a morning muse, placidly gazing at the fire and hearkening to the rain upon the roof. 'Ha, my dear Mr. Somerset, said he, 'and have you since last night adopted any fresh political principle? 'The lady, sir, said Somerset, with another blush. 'You have seen her, I believe? returned Mr.
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