"Well, George, I 've not heard of your discounting your bills lately," retorted the elder man.
Just then Sir Percival approached them.
"As usual, the rallying place for wit and fashion is at Mrs. FitzHerbert's side," said the baronet, graciously.
"So you thought you would add beauty to the list by coming yourself?"
"Nay, Sherry, I have heard it said there was never a prettier gentleman than Richard Brinsley," said the baronet.
"Who said that? Your grandmother?" retorted Sheridan. "How is the old lady?"
"So you have neglected Mr. Moore?" whispered Mrs. FitzHerbert, drawing her host to her side. "Oh, Percy, Percy, what a jealous creature you are!"
"Egad, you wrong me, Mrs. FitzHerbert; the one being I have ever really envied as a lover is his Highness."
"Mr. Dyke and Mistress Dyke," announced the footman.
Sir Percival went to welcome his guests, followed by Sheridan and the others. Bessie never looked prettier. The proud consciousness of her success gave her a new confidence, and she laughed and quizzed it with the witty throng assembled to celebrate her triumph as brightly and merrily as though she had never moved in any but the upper circle of society. Mrs. FitzHerbert mischievously told her of Sir Percival's intentional neglect of Moore in the hearing of the gentleman, and then, bubbling over with glee at the embarrassing position in which she had placed him, sought safety in flight on the arm of Farrell, who, quite dazzled by the beauty's condescension, was already vaguely meditating on his chances as a rival of the Regent.