their capital for their income. To this set you may add the whole of the
baronetage--for I have remarked that baronets hang together like bees or
Scotchmen; and if I go to a baronet's house, and speak to some one whom I
have not the happiness to know, I always say "Sir John--."

It was no wonder, then, that to this set belonged Sir Lionel Garrett--no
more the youth in a green coat and lank hair, but pinched in, and curled
out--abounding in horses and whiskers--dancing all night--lounging all
day--the favourite of the old ladies, the Philander of the young.

One unfortunate evening Sir Lionel Garrett was introduced to the
celebrated Duchess of D. From that moment his head was turned. Before
then, he had always imagined that he was somebody--that he was Sir Lionel
Garrett, with a good-looking person and eight thousand a-year; he now
knew that he was nobody unless he went to Lady G.'s and unless he bowed
to Lady S. Disdaining all importance derived from himself, it became
absolutely necessary to his happiness, that all his importance should be
derived solely from his acquaintance with others. He cared not a straw
that he was a man of fortune, of family, of consequence; he must be a man
of ton; or he was an atom, a nonentity, a very worm, and no man. No
lawyer at Gray's Inn, no galley slave at the oar, ever worked so hard at
his task as Sir Lionel Garrett at his. Ton, to a single man, is a thing
attainable enough. Sir Lionel was just gaining the envied distinction,
when he saw, courted, and married Lady Harriett Woodstock.

His new wife was of a modern and not very rich family, and striving like
Sir Lionel for the notoriety of fashion; but of this struggle he was
ignorant. He saw her admitted into good society--he imagined she
commanded it; she was a hanger on--he believed she was a leader. Lady
Harriett was crafty and twenty-four--had no objection to be married, nor