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My friend's name is Ali Seyyid, Lady Fritterly. Lady Fritterly. Pray excuse my stupidity, Mr Allyside, and come and sit near me. Lord Fondleton, find Mrs Gloring a chair. Mrs Gloring. I am sure I don't know. I think Lady Fritterly called him a codger. Lord Fondleton. Ah, he looks like it, and a rum one at that, as our American cousins say. Mrs Gloring. Hush! Mr Germsell is going to begin.
No; it seems to me more like tic-tic-tic. Mrs Allmash. How too tiresome! I can't hear anything. I suppose it is on account of the rumble of the carriages. Mrs Gloring. No; what? Lord Fondleton. The beating of my own heart. Can't you guess for whom? Mrs Gloring. No. Perhaps the Rishi makes it beat. Lord Fondleton. Dear Mrs Gloring, you are the Rishi for whom Mrs Gloring. Hush! Lady Fritterly.
I am dying to see her; but they say that she is rather a fool. Lady Fritterly. Pure spite and jealousy. Yet that is the way these Christian women of society obey the precept of their religion, and love their neighbours as themselves. Lord Fondleton. How d'ye do, Lady Fritterly?
Lord Fondleton! I did not know that he was interested in such subjects. Lady Fritterly. He says he is, dear; between ourselves but this, of course, is strictly entre nous I rather think that it is I who interest him: but I encourage him, poor fellow; it may wean him from the unprofitable life he is leading, and turn his mind to higher things. Oh! I almost forgot, -then there is my new beauty!
Don't we, Louisa, dear? And you can't think how grateful I am to Lord Fondleton for having given me the pleasure of your acquaintance. I hope I may often see you; I am sure you would do us all so much good. You will always find me at home on Sunday afternoons at this hour. Mrs Allmash.
I am not going to be entrapped into getting it from any unknowable source; the love of humanity, whether it be humanity as existing, or when absorbed by death into the general mass, is perpetually generating itself. Mrs Allmash. Then it must produce itself from what was there before; therefore it must be the same love, which keeps on going round and round. Lord Fondleton.
A sort of circular love, in fact. I've often felt it: but I didn't think it right to encourage it. Lady Fritterly. Lord Fondleton, how can you be so silly? Don't pay attention to him, Mr Coldwaite. I confess I still don't see how you can get a higher love out of humanity than humanity has already got in it, unless you are to look to some other source for it. Coldwaite.
You will not hear the sound as though coming from a distance, but it will seem rather like a muffled drumming taking place inside your head, scarcely perceptible at first, when its volume will gradually increase. Lord Fondleton. It is something like a woodpecker inside of one. Drygull. Not a word, my dear madam, if you please. Lord Fondleton. That's not like a woodpecker. Mrs Gloring.
You would have very few readers, and those who read you would only sneer at what they would call your crude ideas; and indeed, you will excuse me for saying so, but I am not sure that they would not be right. Lord Fondleton. I quite disagree with you, Mr Fussle.
Why, Rollestone, you would make all the women detestable if you could have your way. Rollestone. I don't think there is any immediate cause for alarm on that score. I have a few people coming to me to-morrow evening; do you think you can spare a moment from your numerous engagements? Lady Fritterly and Lord Fondleton are coming; and perhaps, Mr Drygull, you will come, and bring Mr Allyside.
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