Mr. Alfred Lammle came round to the Albany to breakfast with Fledgeby. Present on the table, one scanty pot of tea, one scanty loaf, two scanty pats of butter, two scanty rashers of bacon, two pitiful eggs, and an abundance of handsome china bought a secondhand bargain.

“What did you think of Georgiana?” asked Mr. Lammle.

“Why, I’ll tell you,” said Fledgeby, very deliberately.

“Do, my boy.”

“You misunderstand me,” said Fledgeby. “I don’t mean I’ll tell you that. I mean I’ll tell you something else.”

“Tell me anything, old fellow!”

“Ah, but there you misunderstand me again,” said Fledgeby. “I mean I’ll tell you nothing.”