I was hoping, Sir Charles, just now, that you would stay to dinner: but if you talk at this rate, I believe I shall be ready, to wish you out of the house.

Sir Harry looked as if he were half-willing to be diverted at what passed between his lady and me. It was better for me to say what he could not but subscribe to by his feeling, than for him to say it. Though reproof seldom amends a determined spirit, such a one as this lady’s; yet a man who suffers by it, cannot but have some joy when he hears his sen-timents spoken by a bystander. This freedom of mine seemed to save the married pair a good deal of recrimination.

You remind me, madam, that I must be gone; rising, and looking at my watch.

You mustnot leave us, Sir Charles, said Sir Harry.

I beg excuse, Sir Harry Yours, also, madam, smiling Lady Beauchamp must not twice wish me out of the house.

I will not excuse you, Sir, replied she If you have a desire to see the matter completed She stopt You must stay to dinner, be that as it will.

“Be that as it will,” madam! You shall not re-cede.

Recede! I have not yet complied. these women! they are so used to courtship, that they know not how to do right things without it And, pardon me, madam, not always with it.

Bold man Have 1 consented

Have you not, madam, given a ladi/s consent? That we men expect not to be very explicit, very gracious. It is from such now-negative consents, that we men make silence answer all we wish.

I leave Sir Charles Grandison to manage this point, said Sir Harry. In my conscience, I think the common observation just; a stander-by sees more of the game, than he that plays.

It ever will be so, Sir Harry But I will tell you, My lady and I have as good as agreed the matter

I have agreed to nothing, Sir Harry Hush, madam I am doing you credit. Lady Beauchamp speaks aside sometimes, Sir Harry: you are not to hear any-thing she says, that you don’t like.

Then I am afraid I must stop my ears for eight hours out of twelve.

That was aside, Lady Beauchamp You are not to hear that.

To sit, like a fool, and hear myself abused A pretty figure I make! Sir Charles Grandison, let me tell you, that you are the first man that ever treated me like a fool.

Excuse, madam, a little innocent raillery I met you both, with a discomposure on your counte-nances. I was the occasion of it, by the letter I sent to Sir Harry. I will not leave you discom-posed. I think you a woman of sense; and my request is of such a nature, that the granting of it will confirm to me, that you are so But you have granted it

I have not.