in any way distinguished oneself. "He's such a d--d bore, that man with
his books and poetry," said an arch-dandy of Byron, just after Childe
Harold had turned the heads of the women. There happened to be a knot
assembled at White's when Godolphin entered; they welcomed him
affectionately.

"Wish you joy, old fellow," said one. "Bless me, Godolphin! well, I am
delighted to see you," cried another. "So, you have monopolised Lady
Erpingham!--lucky dog!" whispered a third.

Godolphin, his vanity soothed by the reception he met with, spent his
evening at the Club. The habit begun, became easy--Godolphin spent many
evenings at his club. Constance, running the round of her acquaintance,
was too proud to complain. Perhaps complaint would not have mended the
matter: but one word of delicate tenderness, or one look that asked for
his society, and White's would have been forsaken! Godolphin secretly
resented the very evenness of temper he had once almost overprized.

"Oh, Godolphin," one evening whispered a young lord, "we sup at the little
actress's,--the Millinger; you remember the Millinger? You must come; you
are an old favourite, you know: she'll be so glad to see you,--all
innocent, by the way: Lady Erpingham need not be jealous--(jealous!
Constance jealous of Fanny Millinger!) all innocent. Come, I'll drive you
there; my cab is at the door."

"Anything better than a lecture on ambition," thought Godolphin; and he
consented. Godolphin's friend was a lively young nobleman, of that
good-natured, easy, uncaptious temper, which a clever, susceptible,
indolent man often likes better than comrades more intellectual, because
he has not to put himself out of his way in the comradeship. Lord