" "You're fine, too. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. ‘Don’t want it to break out bleeding again. . "I was merely about to observe that I am in possession of her secret. “My dear Miss Stanley, when I talked to you the other afternoon of work and politics and such-like things, my mind was all the time resenting it beyond measure. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. ‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing.
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