He had not been inside a club, and hardly ventured during the
day into the streets about Pall Mall and Piccadilly. He had been
frequently to Portman Square, but had not even seen Madame Goesler.
Now he was to dine out for the first time; but there was to be no
guest but himself.
"It wasn't so bad after all," said Mr. Monk, when they were seated
together.
"At any rate it has been done."
"Yes;--and there will be no doing of it over again. I don't like Mr.
Daubeny, as you know; but he is happy at that kind of thing."
"I hate men who are what you call happy, but who are never in
earnest," said Phineas.
"He was earnest enough, I thought."
"I don't mean about myself, Mr. Monk. I suppose he thought that it
was suitable to the occasion that he should say something, and he
said it neatly. But I hate men who can make capital out of occasions,
who can be neat and appropriate at the spur of the moment,--having,
however, probably had the benefit of some forethought,--but whose
words never savour of truth. If I had happened to have been hung at
this time,--as was so probable,--Mr.
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