"Mr. Beverley," said he, bowing, "when Devenham, Slingsby, and I
meet at table, it is our invariable custom to drink to one whom we
all--hum--"
"Admire!" said the Viscount, rising.
"Adore!" said the Captain, rising also.
"Therefore, gentlemen," pursued the Marquis, "with our host's
permission, we will--"
"Stay a moment, Jerningham," said the Viscount,--"it is only right
to tell you that my friend Beverley is one with us in this,--he also
is a suitor for the hand of Lady Cleone."
"Is he, b'gad!" exclaimed the Captain. "Dooce take me!" said the
Marquis, "might have known it though. Ah, well! one more or less
makes small difference among so many."
So Barnabas rose, and lifting his glass with the others, drank to-"Our Lady Cleone--God bless her!"