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Tadpole had persuaded him might be secured on a vacancy occasioned by a successful petition. They had seen the Count of Ferroll, who was going to dine with them that day, and Endymion was invited to meet him. It was Adriana's first visit to Paris, and she seemed delighted with it; but Mrs. Neuchatel preferred the gay capital when it was out of season. Mr.

This, after all, is but Mambrino's helmet." A knot of young dandies were discussing the chances of the morrow as Endymion was passing by, and as he knew most of them he joined the group. "I hope to heaven," said one, "that the Count of Ferroll will beat that foreign chap to-morrow; I hate foreigners." "So do I," said a second, and there was a general murmur of assent.

Ormsby, "but he was a great favourite." "Lady Montfort will never marry. She had always a poodle, and always will have. She was never so liee with Ferrars as with the Count of Ferroll, and half a dozen others. She must have a slave." "A very good mistress with thirty thousand a year." "She has not that," said Mr. Cassilis doubtingly. "What do you put Princedown at?" said Mr. Ormsby.

For myself, I must have a male friend, and he must be very clever, and thoroughly understand politics. You know you deprived me of Lord Roehampton," she continued smilingly, "who was everything I could desire; and the Count of Ferroll would have suited me excellently, but then he ran away.

If you want an arm, there is the Count of Ferroll, and I hope you may find he has a sweeter temper than I have." Lady Montfort looked at him with a strange and startled glance. It was a mixture of surprise, a little disdain, some affection blended with mockery. And then exclaiming "Silly boy!" she swept out of the room. "I do not like the prospect of affairs," said Mr.

"I have no fancy for them myself, but it is always possible to shave them off; that's one comfort." I divined of whom she was speaking, but made no response. "How did you like him, Virginia?" "Mr. Ferroll? I found him very entertaining," I replied. "I thought he seemed decidedly impressed by you. He scarcely kept his eyes off you all through dinner.

We cannot talk here of Emilia Wyndham or Paul Ferroll, both emphatically novels of their day, and that no short one; and in the latter case, if not in the former, books deserving to be read at intervals by more than the bookworm.

They were Paul Ferroll, 'Why Paul Ferroll Killed His Wife, and 'Day after Day. The first two were, of course, related to each other, and they were all three full of unwholesome force. As to their aesthetic merit I will not say anything, for I have not looked at either of the books for thirty years. I fancy, however, that their strength was rather of the tetanic than the titanic sort.

It was a round table, and Endymion was told by the same gentleman who had already addressed him, that he was to sit by Lady Montfort. "Lord Montfort is a little late to-day," she said, "but he wished me not to wait for him. And how are you after our parliamentary banquet?" she said, turning to Endymion; "I will introduce you to the Count of Ferroll."

Lady Montfort, without disturbing the general conversation, whispered in turns to the Count of Ferroll and Endymion, and told the latter that she had paid a visit to Lady Roehampton in the morning a most delightful visit. There was no person she admired so much as his sister; she quite loved her.