ke all persons
who win money easily--she was charitable to all and luxurious in
herself. The supper was attended by four male guests--Godolphin,
Saville, Lord Falconer; and Mr. Windsor.

It was early summer: the curtains were undrawn, the windows were half
opened, and the moonlight slept on the little grassplot that surrounded
the house. The guests were in high spirits. "Fill me this goblet,"
cried Godolphin; "champagne is the boy's liquor; I will return to it con
amore. Fanny, let us pledge each other: stay: a toast!--What shall it
be?"

"Hope till old age, and Memory afterwards," said Fanny, smiling.

"Pshaw! theatricals still, Fan?" growled Saville, who had placed a large
screen between himself and the window; "no sentiment between friends."

"Out on you, Saville," said Godolphin; "as well might you say no music
out of the opera; these verbal prettinesses colour conversation. But
your roues are so d----d prosaic, you want us to walk to Vice without a
flower by the way."

"Vice indeed!" cried Saville. "I abjure your villanous appellatives.
It was in your companionship that I lost my character, and now you turn
king's evidence against the poor devil you seduced."

"Humph!" cried Godolphin gaily; "you remind me of the advice of the
Spanish hidalgo to a servant: always choose a master with a good memory:
for 'if he does not pay, he will at least remember that he owes you.' In
future, I shall take care to herd only with those who recollect, after
they are finally debauched, all the good advice I gave them beforehand."

"Meanwhile," said the pretty Fanny, with her arch mouth half-full of
chicken, "I shall recollect that Mr. Saville drinks his wine without
toasts--as being a useless delay."

"Wine," said Mr. Windsor, sententiously, "wine is just the reverse of
love. Your old topers are all for coming at once, to the bottle, and
your old lovers for ever mumbling the toast."

"See what you have' brought on yourself, Saville, by affecting a joke
upon me," said Godolphin. "Come, let us make it up: we fell out with the
toast--let us be reconciled by the glass.--Champagne?"

"Ay, anything for a quiet life,--even champagne," said Saville, with a
mock air of patience, and dropping his sharp features into a state of
the most placid repose. "Your wits are so very severe. Yes, champagne if
you please. Fanny, my love," and Saville made a wry face as he put down
the scarce-tasted glass; "go on--another joke, if you please; I