I have never wept since that day. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. Accompanied by Sir Cecil, who still continued passionately enamoured of his sister, and to whom he represented that she had fallen a victim to the arts of a seducer, he set off, at fiery speed, for the metropolis. . And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. "Ah! I see. It drives one mad at times. No one in the world is beyond the shaft of scandal— we all catch it terribly sometimes. "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly.
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