Mr. Moulton: "Why did you play trumps?"

She: "Oh! was that trumps? I must take it back. Pray, let me take it

back."

We all recover our cards. (My partner takes this occasion to drop some of

his on the floor. He picks them up and arranges them again in order.)

"Your turn, Countess!" we cry, exhausted.

In the Courts of Memory, 1858-1875; from Contemporary Letters · 第 111 / 153 题