I was of a serious mind to take the advice. To prove this I called for
my wrap-rascal and cane, and for a fellow with a flambeau to light me.
But just then the party arrived from the assembly. I was tempted, and
I sat down again in a corner of the room, resolved to keep a check upon
myself, but to stay awhile.

The rector was the first in, humming a song, and spied me.

"Ho!" he cried, "will you drink, Richard? Or do I drink with you?"

He was already purple with wine.

"God save me from you and your kind!" I replied.

"'Sblood! what a devil's nest of fireworks!" he exclaimed, as he went
off down the room, still humming, to where the rest were gathered. And
they were soon between bottle and stopper, and quips a-coursing. There
was the captain of the Thunderer, Collinson by name, Lord Comyn and two
brother officers, Will Fotheringay, my cousin Philip, openly pleased to
be found in such a company, and some dozen other toadeaters who had
followed my Lord a-chair and a-foot from the ball, and would have tracked
him to perdition had he chosen to go; and lastly Tom Swain, leering and
hiccoughing at the jokes, in such a beastly state of drunkenness as I had
rarely seen him. His Lordship recognized me and smiled, and was pushing
his chair back, when something Collinson said seemed to restrain him.

I believe I was the butt of more than one jest for my aloofness, though I
could not hear distinctly for the noise they made. I commanded some
French cognac, and kept my eye on the rector, and the sight of him was
making me dangerous.