"Glad to hear it," said Leicester, with a wink to us.
"Yes;—'pon my life; I don't know when I ever spent so pleasant a one;" and, with a sort of chuckle to himself, Hurst filled a glass of punch.
"What did you think of Richard the Third?" said I.
"Oh! hang the play! there might have been six Richards in the field for all I can say: I was better engaged."
"Ay," said Fane, "I rather fancy you were."
"We had a very pleasant drive home," said I, willing to effect a diversion in favour of Leicester, who was puffing desperately at his cigar in a savage kind of silence;—"and a capital supper afterwards; I wish you had been with us."
"And I had a very jolly drive too: I got a gig, and galloped nearly all the way; and a very good supper, too, before I started; but I won't return your compliment; we were a very snug party without you. Upon my word, Leicester, your eldest cousin is one of the very nicest girls I ever met: the sort of person you get acquainted with at once, and so very lively and good-humoured—no nonsense about her."
"I'll make a point of letting her know your good opinion," replied Horace, in a tone conveying pretty plainly a rebuke of such presumption. But it was lost upon Hurst.
"Probably you need not trouble yourself," said Fane: "I dare say he has let her know it himself already."
"No—really no"—said Hurst, as if deprecating anything so decided; "but Miss Leicester is a very nice girl; clever, I should say, decidedly; there's a shade of—one can hardly call it rusticity—about her manner; but I like it, myself—I like it."