In public, a starched, dry man, the ideal of a fashionable London doctor of the severer type, he was in private a benevolent and easy friend; a judge of port, and one who commended it to others; and a man of some weight in the political world.

In his early days he had been a mad doctor; and at Batson's he could still disconcert the impertinent by a shrewd glance, learned and practised among those unfortunates.
With such qualifications, Dr.Addington was not slow to perceive Sir George's absence of mind; and presuming on old friendship--he had attended the younger man from boyhood--he began to probe for the cause.
Raising his half-filled glass to the light, and rolling the last mouthful on his tongue, 'I am afraid,' he said, 'that what I heard in town was true ?' 'What was it ?' Soane asked, rousing himself.
'I heard, Sir George, that my Lady Hazard had proved an inconstant mistress of late ?' 'Yes.

Hang the jade! And yet--we could not live without her!' 'They are saying that you lost three thousand to my Lord March, the night before you left town ?' 'Halve it.' 'Indeed?
Still--an expensive mistress ?' 'Can you direct me to a cheap one ?' Sir George said rather crustily.
'No.

But doesn't it occur to you a wife with money--might be cheaper ?' the doctor asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Sir George shrugged his shoulders for answer, and turning from the table--the servant had withdrawn--brushed the crumbs from his breeches, and sat staring at the lire, his glass in his hand.

'I suppose--it will come to that presently,' he said, sipping his wine.
'Very soon,' the doctor answered, drily, 'unless I am in error.' Sir George looked at him.