Woffington.
"Not that I would say this if you could take her for what she is, and
amuse yourself with her as she will with you, if she thinks it worth her
while. But I see you have a heart, and she will make a football of it,
and torment you beyond all you have ever conceived of human anguish."
Mr. Vane colored high, and was about to interrupt the speaker; but he
continued:
"There, I am in a hurry. But ask Quin, or anybody who knows her history,
you will find she has had scores of lovers, and no one remains her friend
after they part."
"Men are such villains!"
"Very likely," was the reply; "but twenty men don't ill-use one good
woman; those are not the proportions. Adieu!"
This last hit frightened Mr. Vane, he began to look into himself; he
could not but feel that he was a mere child in this woman's hands; and,
more than that, his conscience told him that if his heart should be made
a football of it would be only a just and probable punishment. For there
were particular reasons why he, of all men, had no business to look twice
at any woman whose name was Woffington.
That night he avoided the green-room, though he could not forego the
play; but the next night he determined to stay at home altogether.
Accordingly, at five o'clock, the astounded box-keeper wore a visage of
dismay--there was no shilling for him! and Mr. Vane's nightly shilling
had assumed the sanctity of salary in his mind.
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