It is certainly the best caravansera in the English quartier.
I was engaged that day to a literary dinner at the Marquis D'Al--; and as I knew I should meet Vincent, I felt some pleasure in repairing to my entertainer's hotel.

They were just going to dinner as I entered.

A good many English were of the party.

The good natured (in all senses of the word) Lady--, who always affected to pet me, cried aloud, "Pelham, mon joli petit mignon, I have not seen you for an age--do give me your arm." Madame D'Anville was just before me, and, as I looked at her, I saw that her eyes were full of tears; my heart smote me for my late inattention, and going up to her, I only nodded to Lady--, and said, in reply to her invitation, "Non, perfide, it is my turn to be cruel now.

Remember your flirtation with Mr.Howard de Howard." "Pooh!" said Lady--, taking Lord Vincent's arm, "your jealousy does indeed rest upon 'a trifle light as air.'" "Do you forgive me ?" whispered I to Madame D'Anville, as I handed her to the salle a manger.