"
"There I am sure you do yourself injustice."
"No, 'pon my word! I never had any practice."
"What, not among all the charming girls I saw in church yesterday?
Oh, Mr. Buzza, you mustn't tell me _that_." A look from the dark
eyes accompanied this sentence.
Now, very few young men of Sam's stamp greatly mind being considered
gay Lotharios. So that when he repeated that "'Pon his word he
wasn't," he also turned his neck about in his collar for a second or
so, smiled meaningly, and altogether looked rather pleased than not.
"I'm afraid you are a very sad character, Mr. Buzza."
"No, really now."
"And are deceiving me horribly."
"No, really; wouldn't think of it."
"Sam!" broke in the Admiral's voice in tones of thunder.
"Yes, sir."
"How does Mr. Moggridge describe the 'Man-o'-War' Hotel?"
"Says the beer's falling off, sir. It _did_, once upon a time, taste
of the barrel, but now he'll be hanged if it tastes of anything at
all. It ought--"
"Don't be a fool, sir! I mean in that poem of his from 'Ivy Leaves:
or, Tendrils from Troy.'"
"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure. Let me see--"
Before he could recall it, Sophia finished the quotation, timidly.
"I think, papa, I can remember it:--"
'And thou,
Quaint hostel! 'neath whose mould'ring gable ends
In amber draught I slake my noonday thirst .
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