“I wish he was hanged,” returned he, “for he has kept me waiting this hour. He made me promise not to ride out till he called and now he'll stay till the morning is over.”
“Pray where does he live, sir?” cried Morrice, starting from his seat.
“In Cavendish Square, sir,” answered Mr Harrel, looking at him with much surprise.
Not a word more said Morrice, but scampered out of the room.
“Pray who is this Genius?” cried Mr Harrel, “and what has he run away for?”
“Upon my word I know nothing at all of him,” said Mrs Harrel; “he is a visitor of Miss Beverley's.”
“And I, too,” said Cecilia, “might almost equally disclaim all knowledge of him; for though I once saw, I never was introduced to him.”
She then began a relation of her meeting him at Mr Monckton's house, and had hardly concluded it, before again, and quite out of breath, he made his appearance.
“Sir Robert Floyer, sir,” said he to Mr Harrel, “will be here in two minutes.”
“I hope, sir,” said Mr Harrel, “you have not given yourself the trouble of going to him?”