It is a gay time for the painted harlot in a crimson pelisse; and a gay time for the old hag that loiters about the thresholds of the gin-shop, to buy back, in a draught, the dreams of departed youth.

It is gay, in fine, as the fulness of a vast city is ever gay--for Vice as for Innocence, for Poverty as for Wealth.

And the wheels of every single destiny wheel on the merrier, no matter whether they are bound to Heaven or to Hell.
Arthur Beaufort, the young heir, was at his father's house.

He was fresh from Oxford, where he had already discovered that learning is not better than house and land.

Since the new prospects opened to him, Arthur Beaufort was greatly changed.