He was all rings and
ringlets, ruffles, and a little rouge. Much older than his companion,
short in stature, plump in figure, but with a most defined waist, fair,
blooming, with a multiplicity of long light curls, and a perpetual smile
playing upon his round countenance, he looked like the Cupid of an opera
Olympus.
The Duke of St. James had been intimate with these distinguished
gentlemen in their own country, and had received from them many and
distinguished attentions. Often had he expressed to them his sincere
desire to greet them in his native land. Their mutual anxiety of never
again meeting was now removed. If his heart, instead of being bruised,
had been absolutely broken, still honour, conscience, the glory of his
house, his individual reputation, alike urged him not to be cold or
backward at such a moment. He advanced, therefore, with a due mixture
of grace and warmth, and congratulated them on their arrival. At this
moment, Lady Fitz-pompey's carriage was announced. Promising to return
to them in an instant, he hastened to his cousin; but Mr. Arundel Dacre
had already offered his arm, which, for Arundel Dacre, was really pretty
well.
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