Taber," said the manager. “Get me some brandy and my bag. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. . It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. "I thought as much," continued Jonathan.
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