You'll pardon me coming up, but my wife is downstairs
with Mrs. Buzza, and I was told I should find you here. Don't rise--
'no dress,' as they say. May I smoke? Thanks. And how are you by
this time? I heard something of your mishap, but not the rights of
it. I'll sit down, and you can tell me all about it."
Here was affability indeed. The Admiral conquered his first impulse
of diving beneath the bed-clothes, and, lying back, recounted his
misadventure at some length. The Honourable Frederic listened and
smoked with perfect gravity. At the close he said--
"Very dirty treatment, 'pon my word; though I'm not sure I don't
sympathise with the fellow in warning off the women. But why stay in
bed?"
"There are feelings,"--began the Admiral.
"Ah! to be sure--injured feelings--ungrateful country--blow, blow,
thou winter wind, &c. So you take to bed, like the Roman gentleman
who went too; forget the place. Gets rid of the women, too;
nuisance--women--when you're upset; nonsense, that about pain and
anguish playing the deuce, and a ministering angel thou--tommy-rot, I
call it. Can't be bothered, now, in bed--turn round and snore; wife
has hysterics--snore louder. Capital! I've a mind to try the same
plan when Geraldine is fussing and fuming. These infernal women--"
I am sorry to say that the Admiral, instead of defending Mrs.
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