Lavinia knew the object of her sarcasm well—
"She was wreaking
More revenge in bitter speaking"
than any thing else could have done. A woman's tears would have been to him a triumph; her reproaches would, at the very worst, only have bored him; but a sneer touched Achilles on the heel. He shrank from being ridiculed; he knew he had no ready wit to turn it.
"Do let us go home," exclaimed he, turning emphatically to his companion.
"It is so late that I must wish you 'good night!'" replied Mr. Shelburne, who, late as it was, secretly did not despair of finding some one to whom he could tell the adventure in which he had so suddenly found himself engaged. Why, it was worth while sitting up all night, if it were only to narrate Sir George's unceremonious dismissal by the pretty actress.
"Surely," said Lavinia, extending her hand, "you have too much gallantry, Mr. Shelburne, not to put me into the coach."
