Fair Lady.—“During the sitting of parliament.”
“There again!” thought Billy, feeling the expectation-funds fall ten per cent, at least. “Well, faint heart never won fair lady,” continued he to himself, considering how next he should sound her. She was very beautiful—what pretty pearly teeth she had, and such a pair of rosy lips—such a fair forehead too, and such nice hair—he’d give a fipun note for a kiss!—he’d give a tenpun note for a kiss!—dashed if he wouldn’t give a fifty-pun for a kiss. Then he wondered what Head-and-shoulders Smith would think of her. As he didn’t seem to be making much progress, however, in the information way, he now desisted from that consideration, and while contemplating her beauty considered how best he should carry on the siege. Should he declare who and what he was, making the best of himself of course, and ask her to be equally explicit, or should he beat about the bush a little longer and try to fish out what he could about her.
They had a good deal of day before them yet, dark though the latter part of it would be; which, however, on second thoughts, he felt might be rather favourable, inasmuch as she wouldn’t see when he was taken aback by her answers. He would beat about the bush a little longer. It was very pleasant sport.
“Did you say you lived in Chelsea?” at length asked Billy, in a stupid self-convicting sort of way.
“No,” replied the fair lady with a smile; “I never mentioned Chelsea.”
“Oh, no; no more you did,” replied Billy, taken aback, especially as the lady led up to no other place.
“Did she like the country?” at length asked he, thinking to try and fix her locality there, if he could not earth her in London.
“Yes, she liked the country, at least out of the season—there was no place like London in the season,” she thought.
Billy thought so too; it was the best place in summer, and the only place in winter.
Well, the lady didn’t know, but if she had to choose either place for a permanency, she would choose London.