"Now, reelly, Mr. Smith, you should deence; a feeshionable young man,
like you--I don't know what the young leedies will say to you." And the
fair seducer laughed bewitchingly.

"You are very good, Mrs. Dollimore," replied Mr. Smith, with a blush and
a low bow; "but Mr. Ritson tells me it is not the thing to dance."

"Oh," cried Mrs. Dollimore, "but then he's seech a naughty, conceited
creature--don't follow his example, Meester Smith;" and again the good
lady laughed immoderately.

"Nay, Mrs. Dollimore," said Mr. Ritson, passing his hand through his
abominable hair, "you are too severe; but tell me, Mrs. Dollimore, is the
Countess St. A--coming here?"

"Now, reelly, Mr. Ritson, you, who are the pink of feeshion, ought to
know better than I can; but I hear so."

"Do you know the countess?" said Mr. Smith, in respectful surprise, to
Ritson.

"Oh, very well," replied the Coryphaeus of Cheltenham, swinging his
Woodstock glove to and fro; "I have often danced with her at Almack's."

"Is she a good deencer?" asked Mrs. Dollimore.

"O, capital," responded Mr. Ritson; "she's such a nice genteel little
figure."

Sir Ralph, apparently tired of this "feeshionable" conversation,