“No! Silence was consent, was it not? But I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you will forgive me. It is six months since I saw him—so you understand—I warrant me you did not look for me so soon, ladies?”
“Some of us did not look for you at all, madam,” said Mrs. Woffington.
“What, Ernest did not tell you he expected me?”
“No! He told us this banquet was in honor of a lady's first visit to his house, but none of us imagined that lady to be his wife.”
Vane began to writhe under that terrible tongue, whose point hitherto had ever been turned away from him.
“He intended to steal a march on us,” said Pomander, dryly; “and, with your help, we steal one on him;” and he smiled maliciously on Mrs. Woffington.
“But, madam,” said Mr. Quin, “the moment you did arrive, I kept sacred for you a bit of the fat; for which, I am sure, you must be ready. Pass her plate!”
“Not at present, Mr. Quin,” said Mr. Vane, hastily. “She is about to retire and change her traveling-dress.”
“Yes, dear; but, you forget, I am a stranger to your friends. Will you not introduce me to them first?”
“No, no!” cried Vane, in trepidation. “It is not usual to introduce in the beau monde.”