“That’s it, sir.”

Silas took off his glasses again⁠—finding himself too intensely disgusted by the sprightly appearance of his friend and partner to bear a magnified view of him and made the inquiry:

“To the old party?”

“ Mr. Wegg!” said Venus, with a sudden flush of wrath. “The lady in question is not a old party.”

“I meant,” exclaimed Wegg, testily, “to the party as formerly objected?”

“ Mr. Wegg,” said Venus, “in a case of so much delicacy, I must trouble you to say what you mean. There are strings that must not be played upon. No sir! Not sounded, unless in the most respectful and tuneful manner. Of such melodious strings is Miss Pleasant Riderhood formed.”