At that moment Pope caught sight of his man fidgetting first on one foot
and then on the other.

"What d'ye want sirrah?" demanded the poet irritably.

"A young girl, sir, desires to see Mr. Gay. She couldn't tell me her
business with him."

A roar of laughter was heard, in the midst of which Gay looked puzzled
and a trifle foolish.

"Oh poor Gay, to think thy light damsels cannot let thee alone but must
follow thee to my pure Eve-less abode," said Pope mockingly.

"Nay, 'tis nothing of the kind. You accuse me unjustly. I know no light
o' love. To prove it your servant shall bring the girl here and you may
see her for yourself. I've no love secrets."

"What if you had, man? No one would blame you. Not I for one. Get as
much enjoyment as you can out of life, but not in excess. 'Tis excess
that kills," said Arbuthnot laying his hand on Gay's.

There was a meaning in the contact which emphasised the doctor's words.
Self indulgence was Gay's failing as all his friends knew.

"Well--well," rejoined Gay somewhat embarrassed. "Be it so, I--conduct
the girl hither--have I your permission, Mr. Pope?"

"With all my heart--provided she's worth looking at."