"Oh! quite—quite!" echoed the other two.
"I can't say," recommenced the Coryphoea, "that I like the moral—at least not quite; no, not quite."
"Not quite," repeated her coadjutrices.
Glanville drew himself up with his most stately air, and after three profound bows, accompanied by a smile of the most unequivocal contempt, he turned on his heel, and sauntered away.
"Did your grace ever see such a bear?" said one of the echoes.
"Never," said the duchess, with a mortified air; "but I will have him yet. How handsome he is for an author!"
I was descending the stairs in the last state of ennui, when Glanville laid his hand on my shoulder.
"Shall I take you home?" said he: "my carriage has just drawn up."
I was too glad to answer in the affirmative.
"How long have you been an author?" said I, when we were seated in
Glanville's carriage.