"Some women may be caught by a smooth skin and a showy manner, but real masculine beauty,—eyes, colour, and hair,—Mr. Tomlinson, must ultimately make its way—so hand me the brandy and cease your jaw."
"Well, well," said Tomlinson, "I'll give you a toast—'The prettiest girl in England;'—and that's Miss Brandon!"
"You shall give no such toast, Sir!" said Clifford, starting from the bench—"What the devil is Miss Brandon to you?—And now, Ned,"—(seeing that the tall hero looked on him with an unfavourable aspect,)—"here's my hand, forgive me if I was uncivil. Tomlinson will tell you in a maxim, men are changeable. Here's to your health, and it shall not be my fault, gentlemen, if we have not a merry evening!"
This speech, short as it was, met with great applause from the two friends, and Clifford, as president, stationed himself in a huge chair at the head of the table. Scarcely had he assumed this dignity, before the door opened, and half-a-dozen
