“Don’t be so foolish. If you left me the note I should certainly decline to hand over the money, if only for the sake of giving you a lesson.”
“I don’t believe you are capable of such dishonesty.”
“Nor am I, but when it comes to such a simple thing as putting a bank note in your pocket, the most honest man in the world would never dream of having such a thing in his possession without having paid the money for it, and the least slip of memory might lead to a dispute in which you would infallibly come off second best.”
“I feel the force of your arguments, especially in a town where so much business is carried on.”
When I got into the park I met Martinelli and thanked him for sending me a copy of the Decameron, while he congratulated me on my re-appearance in society, and on the young lady of whom I had been the happy possessor and no doubt the slave.
“My Lord Pembroke has seen her,” said he, “and thought her charming.”
“What? Where could he have seen her?”
“In a carriage with you driving fast along the Rochester road. It is three or four days ago.”
“Then I may tell you that I was taking her to Calais; I shall never see her face again.”
“Will you let the room again in the same way?”