The lady in the mask was listening with all her might; Mr.Billings was drawing figures on the table with punch; and the Count talking incessantly.

The Father Confessor listened for a moment; and then, with something resembling an oath, walked away to the entry of the gardens, where his Excellency's gilt coach, with three footmen, was waiting to carry him back to London.

"Get me a chair, Joseph," said his Reverence, who infinitely preferred a seat gratis in the coach.

"That fool," muttered he, "will not move for this hour." The reverend gentleman knew that, when the Count was on the subject of the physician's wife, his discourses were intolerably long; and took upon himself, therefore, to disappear, along with the rest of the Count's party; who procured other conveyances, and returned to their homes.
After this quiet shadow had passed before the Count's box, many groups of persons passed and repassed; and among them was no other than Mrs.
Polly Briggs, to whom we have been already introduced.

Mrs.Polly was in company with one or two other ladies, and leaning on the arm of a gentleman with large shoulders and calves, a fierce cock to his hat, and a shabby genteel air.