"Good heavens! what a mountebank is here!" said I, pushing him from me.
George Lamb sat next; for he had not half finished his supper. Elliston placed himself in a theatrical attitude ready to embrace him.
"And, as to you, my George!" said he, with much pathos.
"For God's sake," exclaimed George Lamb, with his mouth full of dried cherries, "for God's sake, do not play the fool with me!"
Elliston now seated himself by my side, and said, in a whisper, "Don't you want tea?"
"No, but you do, I see," answered I, and I had the charity to request Livius to give me some tea.
Elliston did the honours of the tea-table. The tea had a surprising effect in making him stupid; because it made him sober. He politely offered me his private box for Livius's night, and regretted that it was not a better one. It was a large box, on the stage; but rather too high up. Livius had a private box to himself, and tickets for a host of friends.
"It is three o'clock," said I, at last, "and I dare not risk my petite santé, another instant."
"Good people are so scarce!" added George Lamb.
"No," I added, "I am good for very little. You will find better people every day, and wiser; but nobody at all like me."