The young Prince William will have the dedication of it and if his mother, the Princess of Wales approves, methinks my fortune's made," cried Gay buoyantly.
"Glad to hear it," replied Leveridge, dryly.

"If I know anything about His Royal Highness you'll gain a fortune sooner by writing a ballad or two for this pretty songster.

Make her famous as you made me with 'All in the Downs' and 'T'was when the seas were roaring.'" Gay's face brightened.
"Faith, Dick, you've set my brain working.

I'll think on't, but that means I must keep my eye on the wench." "Oh, I'll trust you for that," rejoined Leveridge, the ghost of a smile flitting across his solemn visage.
Meanwhile the girl had retreated a yard or two from the window, her gaze fixed wistfully on Gay and Leveridge.

She knew from their looks that she was the subject of their talk.
Gay turned from his friend Richard Leveridge, the great bass singer of the day, and rested his hands on the window sill.