"Almost nothing of Annapolis," Mrs. Winscombe replied to a query of what
she had seen in Maryland. "We were there hardly two weeks, and I hadn't
recovered from the trip across the sea. When I think of returning God
knows I'd almost stay here. You wouldn't suppose one person could vent
so much. I believe Felix went to a Jockey Club, there were balls and
farces; but I kept in bed." Mrs. Penny asked, "And London--how are you
amused there now?" The other retied the bow of a garter. "Fireworks,
Roman candles to Mr. Handel's music, and Italian parties, Villeggiatura.
Covent Garden with paper lanterns among the trees, seductions--"
Gilbert Penny smote his hands on the chair arms. "This hectoring of our
commerce will have to rest somewhere!" he declared; "taking the duty
from pig iron, and then restricting its market to London, is no
conspicuous improvement. It is those enactments that provide our
currency with Spanish pieces instead of English pounds. The West Indies
are too convenient to be overlooked." Mr. Winscombe replied stiffly,
"The Government is prepared to meet infractions of its law." Mr. Penny
muttered a period about Germany in England, with a more distant echo of
Hanoverian whores and deformed firebrands. His guest sat with a harsh,
implacable countenance framed in the long shadows of his elaborate wig,
his ornate coat tails falling stiffly on either side of his chair.
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