They always keep the heaviest one back. Tell
me as much or as little as you please or nothing at all, if it likes you
better."
Lavinia hesitated, and at first her tale was a halting one enough, but
seeing no sign of anger in Gay's amiable countenance, she became more
courageous, and substantially she said all that was necessary to make
her companion acquainted with her list of peccadilloes.
"Zooks, my young miss," quoth Gay after the solace of a pinch of snuff.
"It seemeth to me that you've begun to flutter your pinions sufficiently
early. Two love affairs on your hands within twenty-four hours. Mighty
fine, upon my word."
"Oh, but they are _not_ love affairs," protested Lavinia. "I didn't love
Mr. Dorrimore a bit. I never want to see him again. And as for Mr.
Vane, never a word of love has passed between us."
"Bless your innocence. Are words the only signs of love? Permit me to
inform you, Polly, that I look upon your love adventure with Lancelot
Vane as a much more serious business than your elopement with a
profligate fop."
"Indeed, it is serious, Mr. Gay. It's worse than serious--it's tragic.
If you could see the wretched place poor Mr. Vane lives in, if you knew
how he is wanting for food----"
"And drink--is he wanting for that too?" interposed Gay sarcastically.
Lavinia made no answer. She thought of Lancelot at the Chapter Coffee
House the night before and her face clouded.
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