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.—Quite a splendid affair, Miss Pompon!

.—Oh, Mr. De Lyle, you are really quite too awfully funny.

.—No, now, really, you know, 'pon honor!

.—You mean, possibly, quite splendid from the Hobsonby side.

.—Oh, now, really, Miss Pompon, you are quite too awfully sarcastic.

.—It is really quite too amusing to see Mrs. Hobsonby beam.

.—Her face certainly shines, but I fahncied—

.—Oh, you are really quite too funny—

.—Oh, no, 'pon honor—

.—Oh, but you really are. I don't wonder she's warm, though, in that velvet gown.

.—Yes, royal purple, too. Do you know I really think the poor soul wanted to wear a crown, too.

.—Oh, Mr. De Lyle, don't, please; I shall certainly choke.

.—No, really, now, 'pon honor—

. —Just fahncy, you know, a crown surmounting that wonderful coiffure—

.—Really, I think it would quite cap the climax.

.—Be quite a crowning feat.

.—Oh, come, now, Miss Pompon, I hardly thought that of you, you know.

.—Oh, it is all really quite too amusing.

.—Do have another ice, Miss Pompon.

.—Oh, thanks awfully.

.—Do you know I don't think Hobsonby looks what you might call happy—

.—No, he seems quite out of his element.

.—Oh, Miss Pompon, really now—oh, come now—this is too much—

.—Why, what did I say?

.—Oh, really now, you know—why you know he made all his money in fish.

.—Oh, you don't say so; and I said he was quite out of his element—

.—Oh, really, this is quite too awfully absurd—

.—Isn't it all quite too amusing?

.—Oh, I say, Miss Pompon—

.—Now, Mr. De Lyle, don't be quite too awfully funny—

.—No, 'pon honor; but I say—we ought to have plenty of good terrapin for supper—

.—Oh, Mr. De Lyle, where is my fan? I shall certainly need reviving—

.—You see, he can get it at wholesale, you know—

.—Oh, you are really such a wit!

.—Oh, I say, Miss. Pompon; have you noticed the pictures in the room over there?

.—Yes. I didn't see any Corots or Meissoniers.

.—No?

.—The pictures looked as if they were done by the yard you know, and cut off.

.—Oh, really, you are so awfully clever, you know.

.—There's a picture of Miss Hobsonby in the library, done in oil.

.—Like a sardine, you know.

.—Oh, really, now, you know, Mr. De Lyle, if you talk like that, I shall make you go and dance with her.

.—Oh, Miss Pompon, that penance would be quite too dreadful.

.—Do you stay for the cotillon?

.—Oh, no, indeed!

.—Nor we. We go directly after supper.

.—Oh, so do I, you know.

.—I told mama it was quite too much to expect us to stay for the cotillon.

.—Oh, quite, you know. Supper must be served by now; may I—

.—Yes, you may take me down, and remember, Mr. De Lyle, you are not to be quite so awfully funny.

.—Oh, no, 'pon honor—

.—Oh, Mrs. Hobsonby, your ball has been such a success. You are really quite to be congratulated, you know.

.—Oh, yes, it is really quite too nice, altogether.