At the same moment when these remarks were passing between the gentlemen, Lucia said to Miss De Rivers:
“Pray tell me, Fanny, who is that stylish gent lounging so carelessly near the door?”
“Tall—talking with young Bright, do you mean?”
“The same.”
“Ah, beware!” was the answer; “that same gentleman wears a perjured heart. He is no other than that gay deceiver—”
“Who—Mr. Gadsby!” interrupted Lucia.
“Yes, Frank Gadsby, whose vows of love are as indiscriminate as his smiles.”
“I have heard of him, Fanny. Well, he is certainly very handsome,” said Lucia.
“And as fascinating in his manners as he is handsome,” replied her friend. “Why, he makes every woman in love with him—myself excepted, Lucia; every fair lady elicits, in turn, the same homage, the same tender speeches, and, in turn, finds herself the dupe of his flattery and melting glances.”
“Perfectly absurd!” exclaimed Lucia, with a toss of her head.