Fall of a Great Reputation
unmistakable, splendid, serpentine gentleman we had seen walking in North London, his eyes shining with repeated victory.
"What I can't understand, Mr. Wimpole," said Muriel Beaumont, eagerly, "is how you contrive to treat all this so easily. You say things quite philosophical and yet so wildly funny. If I thought of such things, I'm sure I should laugh outright when the thought first came."
"I agree with Miss Beaumont," said Sir Walter, suddenly exploding with indignation. "If I had thought of anything so futile, I should find it difficult to keep my countenance."
"Difficult to keep your countenance," cried Mr. Wimpole, with an air of alarm; "oh, do keep your countenance! Keep it in the British Museum."
Every one laughed uproariously, as they always do at an already admitted readiness, and Sir Walter, turning suddenly purple, shouted out:
"Do you know who you are talking to, with your confounded tomfooleries?"
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