Pardon, pardon! you do turn upon me de very vulgar reply. Observe well de turn of my argument. Actions be noting: it is de high soaring of de soul.—(To Charville.) But you don't attend; you don't look at me.
CRAFTON.
Pardon him, Sir; his eyes follow a still more agreeable object.—Shall we join the party in the garden, Charville?
CHARVILLE.
O no! 'pon my soul, I was looking at that window frame; the ideot of a carpenter has bungled it abominably.
CRAFTON.
I see no fault in it. But you are difficult; Mr. Smitchenstault's piggling virtues are not in favour this morning. Good day.
CHARVILLE.
Ha, ha, ha! 'Pon my life, I am in the best humour imaginable. You will not go without taking leave of Mrs. Charville.
