"I've just recollected that my husband left a key with me, which he charged me to give you when I could find an opportunity. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. She smiled at the sight of him, and thereat his radiation increased. "And, now I'll tell you what they do. I didn’t know he had Italian relatives. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. And imprinting a kiss upon his mother's cold lips, he left the room. Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. “What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked. Selfishness.
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