What'll Mr.Gay, who's been so good to you, think of your base ingratitude ?" Lavinia's eyes filled with tears.

She broke down when she thought of the gentle, good-natured poet.

She could only weep silently.
Mrs.Fenton saw the sign of penitence with much satisfaction and while twirling her wedding ring to assist her thoughts, suddenly said:-- "You haven't told me a word about this spark of yours.

Who is he?
What is he?
Some draper's 'prentice, I suppose, or footman, may be out of a place for robbing his master and thinking of turning highwayman." "Nothing of the kind," cried Lavinia, furious that her mother should think she would so bemean herself.

"I hate him for his falseness, but he's a born gentleman all the same." "Oh, is he?
Let's hear all about him.