mpulsive young girl, no simple maiden in her
flower--no Elaine.

But a magnificent full-blown peeress, who knew her own mind and had
nothing to fear, for her husband was no better than herself. But for
that, a Guinevere and Vivien rolled into one, _plus_ Messalina!

Nor was she the only light o' love; there are many naughty "grandes
dames de par le monde" whose easy virtue fits them like a silk
stocking, and who live and love pretty much as they please without
loss of caste, so long as they keep clear of any open scandal. It is
one of the privileges of high rank.

Then there were the ladies gay, frankly of the half-world,
these--laughter-loving hetaerae, with perilously soft hearts for such
as Barty Josselin! There was even poor, listless, lazy, languid
Jenny, "Fond of a kiss and fond of a guinea!"

His heart was never touched--of that I feel sure; and he was not vain of
these triumphs; but he was a very reckless youth, a kind of young John
Churchill before Sarah Jennings took him in hand--absolutely non-moral
about such things, rather than immoral.

He grew to be a quite notorious young man about town; and, most
unfortunately for him, Lord (and even Lady) Archibald Rohan were so
fond of him, and so proud, and so amiably non-moral themselves, that
he was left to go as he might.

He also developed some very rowdy tastes indeed--and so did I!

It was the fashion for our golden youth in the fifties to do so.
Every night in the Haymarket there was a kind of noisy saturnalia,
in which golden youths joined hands with youths who were by no means
golden, to give much trouble to the police, and fill the pockets of
the keepers of night-houses--"Bob Croft's," "Kate Hamilton's," "the
Piccadilly Saloon," and other haunts equally well pulled down and
forgotten. It was good, in these regions, to be young and big and
strong like Barty and me, and well versed in the "handling of one's
daddles." I suppose London was the only great city in the world
where such things could be. I am afraid that many strange people of
both sexes called us Bob and Barty; people the mere sight or hearing
of whom would have given my poor dear father fits!

Then there was a little public-house in St. Martin's Lane, kept by
big Ben the prize-fighter. In a room at the top of the house there
used to be much sparring. We both of us took a high degree in the
noble art--especially I, if it be not bragging to say so; mostly on
account of my weight, which was