Mr.Gay was a poet.
He would understand.

But the terrible duchess--Kitty of Queensberry who feared nothing and in the plainest of terms, if she was so minded, expressed her opinion on everything! Lavinia quaked in her shoes at the thought of meeting the high-born uncompromising dame.
"But I've promised the poor fellow.

I _must_ keep my word.

I don't care a bit about myself if I can do that," she murmured.
Lavinia had a sudden heartening, and lest the feeling should slacken she seized the heavy bell-pull and gave it a violent tug.
The door was opened almost immediately by a fat hall porter who scowled when he saw a girl instead of the footman of a fine lady in her chair.
"What d'ye want?
A-ringing the bell like that one would think you was my Lord Mayor." "I'm neither the Lord Mayor nor the Lady Mayoress, as your own eyes ought to tell you.

I wish to see Mr.Gay." "Well, you can't," said the porter gruffly.