"It's signed, Walter Gaveston," answered Criquet. "Here's a postscript too."
"Lisez, mon enfant," said Qeurubin.
"I have addressed the young lady, whose name is Mademoiselle Amabel Jones, to the house of Monsieur Râoul and Co., Bourdeaux; where I expect she will arrive, escorted by a particular friend of mine, shortly after this reaches you.'"
"Voilà tout," said Criquet, as he closed the letter, with a strong expression of contempt on his countenance.
"We shall marry her in reality," said the Marquis.
"To be sure we shall," replied Criquet. "What do they take us for? wretches without principle, without honour, to deceive a young creature that puts her trust in us! The very idea shocks me."
"You are an honest fellow, Criquet," said the Marquis. "Vous avez de l'honneur, vous."
"I hope so," said Criquet. "As for that coquin, Gaveston, he was never much to my taste. I'd never much opinion of him."
"Nor I," replied the Marquis. "C'est un homme dur; sans cœur, sans sentiments."
"And it is said some awkward misunderstandings arose at the card table when he was
