Mr.Pelham, you take me, I suppose--black eyes white skin, and such an ancle;" and the fellow rubbed his great hands and chuckled.
"Well," said I, "I cannot blame you, whatever may be my loss--a dark eye and a straight ancle are powerful excuses.

What says Mr.Warburton to them ?" and I turned to the object of my interrogatory.
"Really," he answered drily, and without moving from his uncourteous position, "Mr.Thornton only can judge of the niceties of his peculiar tastes, or the justice of his general excuses." Mr.Warburton said this in a sarcastic, bitter tone.

Thornton bit his lip, more, I should think, at the manner than the words, and his small grey eyes sparkled with a malignant and stern expression, which suited the character of his face far better than the careless levity and enjouement which his glances usually denoted.
"They are no such great friends after all," thought I; "and now let me change my attack.

Pray," I asked, "among all your numerous acquaintances at Paris, did you ever meet with a Mr.Tyrrell ?" Warburton started from his chair, and as instantly re-seated himself.
Thornton eyed me with one of those peculiar looks which so strongly reminded me of a dog, in deliberation whether to bite or run away.
"I do know a Mr.Tyrrell!" he said, after a short pause.
"What sort of a person is he ?" I asked with an indifferent air--"a great gamester, is he not ?" "He does slap it down on the colours now and then," replied Thornton.

"I hope you don't know him, Mr.Pelham!" "Why ?" said I, evading the question.