Vane, hastily. "She is about to
retire and change her traveling-dress."
"Yes, dear; but, you forget, I am a stranger to your friends. Will you
not introduce me to them first?"
"No, no!" cried Vane, in trepidation. "It is not usual to introduce in
the _beau monde."_
"We always introduce ourselves," rejoined Mrs. Woffington. She rose
slowly, with her eye on Vane. He cast a look of abject entreaty on her;
but there was no pity in that curling lip and awful eye. He closed his
own eyes and waited for the blow. Sir Charles threw himself back in his
chair, and, chuckling, prepared for the explosion. Mrs. Woffington saw
him, and cast on him a look of ineffable scorn; and then she held the
whole company fluttering a long while. At length: "The Honorable Mrs.
Quickly, madam," said she, indicating Mrs. Clive.
This turn took them all by surprise. Pomander bit his lip.
"Sir John Brute--"
"Falstaff," cried Quin; "hang it."
"Sir John Brute Falstaff," resumed Mrs. Woffington. "We call him, for
brevity, Brute."
Vane drew a long breath. "Your neighbor is Lord Foppington; a butterfly
of some standing, and a little gouty."
"Sir Charles Pomander."
"Oh," cried Mrs. Vane. "It is the good gentleman who helped us out of the
slough, near Huntingdon. Ernest, if it had not been for this gentleman, I
should not have had the pleasure of being here now.
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