"Then we may regain him," said Lady St Julians with energy.
"You shall make a little dinner to Greenwich, Mr Egremont, and
I will sit next to him."
"Fortunate Trenchard!" said Egremont. "But do you know I fear
he is hardly worthy of his lot. He has a horror of fine
ladies; and there is nothing in the world he more avoids than
what you call society. At home, as this morning when I
breakfasted with him, or in a circle of his intimates, he is
the best company in the world; no one so well informed, fuller
of rich humour, and more sincerely amiable. He is popular
with all who know him--except Taper, Lady St Julians, and
Tadpole, Lady Firebrace."
"Well, I think I will ask him still for Wednesday," said Lady
St Julians; "and I will write him a little note. If society
is not his object, what is?"
"Ay!" said Egremont, "there is a great question for you and
Lady Firebrace to ponder over. This is a lesson for you fine
ladies, who think you can govern the world by what you call
your social influences: asking people once or twice a-year to
an inconvenient crowd in your house; now haughtily smirking,
and now impertinently staring, at them; and flattering
yourselves all this time, that to have the occasional
privilege of entering your saloons and the periodical
experience of your insolent recognition, is to be a reward for
great exertions, or if necessary an inducement to infamous
tergiversation.
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