Chavender has been here again, drinking tea and killing my fishes. With him came Wickham.
My wife and I are lovers of good talk, and these two men are notable talkers. We had both promised ourselves much pleasure from their whimsicalities, and had consoled ourselves for the loss of their society, during the first day of their visit, by the anticipation of that which they would say to us, and to one another, when they should finally be driven within doors by the darkness. This first day, then, drew at length to a close, and after the waders of Wickham and Chavender had been removed, after Chavender's first cup of tea had been poured out—that is to say, about quarter-past ten at night—we were, the four of us, seated in the drawing-room, and I told the company about the angling which I had done that day. Now, I had not fished above two evening hours
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