“Inhospitable designs!  Madam!—­A harsh word!  You very nice ladies cannot admit of the least freedom in the world!—­Why, Madam, I have kiss’d a lady’s woman before now, in a civil way or so, and never was called to an account for it, as a breach of hospitality.”

“Tis not for me, Mr. H., to proceed to very nice particulars with a gentleman who can act as you have done, by a poor girl, that dare not have looked up to a man of your quality, had you not levelled all distinction between you in order to level the weak creature to the common dirt of the highway.  I must say, that the poor girl heartily repents of her folly; and, to shew you, that it signifies nothing to deny it, she begs you will return the note of her hand you extorted from her foolishness; and I hope you’ll be so much of a gentleman, as not to keep in your power such a testimony of the weakness of any of the sex.”

“Has she told you that, Madam?—­Why, may be—­indeed—­I can’t but say—­Truly, it mayn’t look so well to you, Madam:  but young folks will have frolics.  It was nothing but a frolic.  Let me be hanged, if it was!”

“Be pleased then, Sir, to give up her note to me, to return to her.  Reputation should not be frolicked with, Sir; especially that of a poor girl, who has nothing else to depend upon.”

“I’ll give it her myself, if you please, Madam, and laugh at her into the bargain.  Why, ’tis comical enough, if the little pug thought I was earnest, I must have a laugh or two at her, Madam, when I give it her up.”

“Since, ’tis but a frolic, Mr. H., you won’t take it amiss, that when we are set down to supper, we call Polly in, and demand a sight of her note, and that will make every one merry as well as you.”

“Not so, Madam, that mayn’t be so well neither!  For, perhaps, they will be apt to think it is in earnest; when, as I hope to live, ’tis but a jest:  nothing in the world else, upon honour!”

I put on then a still more serious air—­“As you hope to live, say you, Mr. H.!—­and upon your honour! How! fear you not an instant punishment for this appeal?  And what is the honour you swear by?  Take that, and answer me, Sir:  do gentlemen give away bank-notes for frolics, and for mere jests, and nothing in the world else!—­I am sorry to be obliged to deal thus with you.  But I thought I was talking to a gentleman who would not forfeit his veracity; and that in so solemn an instance as this!”

He looked like a man thunderstruck.  His face was distorted, and his head seemed to turn about upon his neck, like a weather-cock in a hurricane, to all points of the compass; his hands clenched as in a passion, and yet shame and confusion struggling in every limb and feature.  At last he said, “I am confoundedly betrayed.  But if I am exposed to my uncle and aunt” (for the wretch thought of nobody but himself), “I am undone, and shall never be able to look them in the face.  ’Tis true, I had a design upon her; and since she has betrayed me, I think I may say, that she was as willing, almost, as I.”