her cards very tight in both hands, considered
which to play, and Mr. Swiveller, assuming the gay and fashionable air
which such society required, took another pull at the jug and waited for
her to lead in the game.

Mr. Swiveller and his partner played several rubbers with varying
success, until the loss of three sixpences, the gradual sinking of the
purl, and the striking of ten o'clock, combined to render that gentleman
mindful of the flight of time, and the wisdom of withdrawing before Mr.
Sampson and Miss Sally Brass returned.

"With which object in view, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller gravely, "I
shall ask your ladyship's permission to put the board in my pocket, and
to retire from the presence when I have finished this glass; merely
observing, Marchioness, that since life like a river is flowing, I care
not how fast it rolls on, ma'am, on, while such purl on the bank still
is growing, and such eyes light the waves as they run. Marchioness, your
health! You will excuse my wearing my hat but the palace is damp, and
the marble floor is--if I may be allowed the expression--sloppy."

As a protection against this latter inconvenience Mr. Swiveller had been
sitting for some time with his feet on the hob, in which attitude he now
gave utterance to these apologetic observations, and slowly sipped the
last choice drops of nectar.

"The Baron Sampsono Brasso and his fair sister are (you tell me) at the
Play?" said Mr. Swiveller, leaning his left arm heavily upon the table,
and raising his voice and his right leg after the manner of a bandit in
the theater.

The Marchioness nodded.

"Ha!" said Mr. Swiveller with a portentous frown. "'Tis well,
Marchioness!--but no matter. Some wine there. Ho!" He illustrated these
melodramatic morsels by handing the glass to himself with great
humility, receiving it haughtily, drinking from it thirstily, and
smacking his lips fiercely.

The small servant, who was not so well acquainted with theatrical
customs as Mr. Swiveller (having indeed never seen a play or heard one
spoken of, except by some chance through chinks of doors and in other
forbidden places), was rather alarmed by demonstrations so strange in
their nature, and showed her concern so plainly in her looks that Mr.
Swiveller felt it necessary to change his brigand manner for one more
suitable to private life, as he asked:

"Do they often go where glory waits 'em, and leave you here?"

"Oh, yes; I believe they do," re