And away they went--and they were hotly pursued, and overtaken, _just_
in time to be too late--which left no other course but that of
reconciliation;--and where there is no choice to be made, every body
knows there is but one part to be taken.

That occurrence is now three years since, and it was only the other
day that I again met the pair of turtles. Dropping in rather late at a
card-party, I beheld them sitting vis-a-vis at one of the tables,
playing together against an old lady and gentleman, before whom Mrs.
L---- thought, perhaps, it was not necessary to appear _very_
fashionable towards dear Harry. With the requisite _ceremonious
unceremoniousness_ so popular at present, I took a chair behind him,
and annoyed him every moment by remarks upon his wife; of course all
highly nattering to both.

"My love, you have played that card wrong--very wrong."

"Did I, my dear?" replied Mrs. L. smiling languidly, and looking in
his face more as if she was admiring the elegant turn of his forehead,
and the spirited expression of his dark eye, than as if she minded
what he was saying--"'tis indeed--very."

"'Tis what?"

"Oh! were you not speaking of something? I beg pardon, love--I thought
you spoke."

"And so I did, my dear. I told you that card was played most
abominably."