“Oh, Mr. Fledgeby,” said Mrs. Lammle, “to desert me in that way! Oh, Mr. Fledgeby, to abandon my poor dear injured rose and declare for blue!”

“Victory, victory!” cried Mr. Lammle; “your dress is condemned, my dear.”

“But what,” said Mrs. Lammle, stealing her affectionate hand towards her dear girl’s, “what does Georgy say?”