"I would give the world for a kiss, at this moment," said Tom; "because you look so humble, and so amiable; but"—recollecting himself—"this is not exactly the embassy I came upon. Have you a mind to give Lorne an agreeable surprise?"
"I don't know."
"Upon my honour I believe he is downright in love with you."
"Well?"
"Come into a hackney-coach with me, and we will drive down to the Tennis Court, in the Haymarket."
"Is the duke there?"
"Yes."
"But at all events, I will not trust myself in a hackney-coach with you."
"There was a time," said poor Tom Sheridan, with much drollery of expression, "there was a time—but now!" and he shook his handsome head with comic gravity, "but now! you may drive with me from here to St. Paul's in the most perfect safety. I will tell you a secret," added he, and he fixed his fine dark eye on my face while he spoke, in a tone, half merry, half desponding, "I am dying; but nobody knows it yet!"
I was very much affected by his manner of saying this.