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118 continued the Homeric quotation, with a pompous and self-gratulatory tone.

"We managed to get rid of our friends," began Clifford

"Like Whigs in place," interrupted the politician.

"Right, Tomlinson, thanks to the milder properties of our drink, and, perchance, to the stronger qualities of our heads; and now tell me, my friend, what think you of our chance of success? Shall we catch an heiress or not?"

"Why really," said Tomlinson, "women are like those calculations in arithmetic, which one can never bring to an exact account; for my part, I shall stuff my calves, and look out for a widow. You, my good fellow, seem to stand a fair chance with Miss ."

"Oh, name her not!" cried Clifford, colouring, even through the flush which wine had spread over his countenance. "Somehow or other, ours are not the lips by which her name should be