General sensation repeated. Brewer says, “Oh dear!” Boots says, “Oh dear!” Buffer says, “Oh dear!” All, in a rumbling tone of protest.
“Then all I have to say is,” returns Podsnap, putting the thing away with his right arm, “that my gorge rises against such a marriage—that it offends and disgusts me—that it makes me sick—and that I desire to know no more about it.”
(“Now I wonder,” thinks Mortimer, amused, “whether you are the Voice of Society!”)
“Hear, hear, hear!” cries Lady Tippins. “Your opinion of this mésalliance , honourable colleagues of the honourable member who has just sat down?”
Mrs. Podsnap is of opinion that in these matters “there should be an equality of station and fortune, and that a man accustomed to Society should look out for a woman accustomed to Society and capable of bearing her part in it with—an ease and elegance of carriage—that.” Mrs. Podsnap stops there, delicately intimating that every such man should look out for a fine woman as nearly resembling herself as he may hope to discover.
(“Now I wonder,” thinks Mortimer, “whether you are the Voice!”)