As she was speaking I heard a sort of CLOOP, by which well-known sound I
was aware that somebody was opening a bottle of wine, and Ponto entered,
in a huge white neckcloth, and a rather shabby black suit.
'My love,' Mrs. Major Ponto said to her husband, 'we were talking of our
cousin--poor dear Lord Rubadub. His death has placed some of the first
families in England in mourning. Does Lady Rubadub keep the house in
Hill Street, do you know?'
I didn't know, but I said, 'I believe she does,' at a venture; and,
looking down to the drawing-room table, saw the inevitable, abominable,
maniacal, absurd, disgusting 'Peerage' open on the table, interleaved
with annotations, and open at the article 'Snobbington.'
'Dinner is served,' says Stripes, flinging open the door; and I gave
Mrs. Major Ponto my arm.
CHAPTER XXV--A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS
Of the dinner to which we now sat down, I am not going to be a severe
critic. The mahogany I hold to be inviolable; but this I will say, that
I prefer sherry to marsala when I can get it, and the latter was the
wine of which I have no doubt I heard the 'cloop' just before dinner.
Nor was it particularly good of its kind; however, Mrs. Major Ponto did
not evidently know the difference, for she called the liquor Amontillado
during the whole of the repast, and drank but half a glass of it,
leaving the rest for the Major and his guest.
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