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A man-servant took their coats in Madame de Vaurigard's hall, where they could hear through the curtains the sound of one or two voices in cheerful conversation. Sneyd held up his hand. "Listen," he said. "Shawly, that isn't Lady Mount-Rhyswicke's voice! She couldn't be in Reom always a Rhyswicke Caws'l for Decembah. By Jev, it is!" "Nothin' of the kind," said Pedlow.
He fell in with the arrangement, for he detested her sister, who always prefaced every remark with 'Have you read ? As he never read anything, he thought she was making fun of him. 'And what, asked Miss Clomber of Hazel, lowering her lids like blinds, 'was your maiden name? 'Woodus. 'Where were you married? 'The Mountain. 'Shawly there's no charch there? 'Ah! Ed'ard's church. 'Edward?
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