She had scarcely begun her morning repast, ere Miss Fletcher,
the favourite companion and confidante of Delia, entered the room. "My
dearest creature," cried the visitor, "how do you do? Had not we not a
most charming evening? I vow I was fatigued to death: and then, lord
Martin, I think he never appeared to so much advantage. Why he was quite
covered with diamonds, spangles, and frogs." "Ah!" cried Delia, "but the
young stranger." "True," answered Miss Fletcher, "I liked him of all
things; so tall, so genteel, and so sweetly perfumed.--I cannot think who
he is. I called upon Miss Griskin, and I called upon Miss Savage, nobody
knows. He is some great man." "When did he come to town?" said Delia,
"Where does he lodge?" "My dear, he came to town yesterday in the evening,
and went away again as soon as the ball was over. But do not you think
that Mr. Prattle's new suit of scarlet sattin was vastly becoming? I vow I
could have fallen in love with him. He is so gay and so trifling, and so
fond of hearing himself talk. Why, does not he say a number of smart
things?" "It is exessively strange," said Delia. (She was thinking of the
stranger.) But Miss Fletcher went on--"Not at all, my life. Upon my word I
think he is always very entertaining. He cuts out paper so prettily, and he
has drawn me the sweetest pattern for an apron. I vow, I think, I never
showed you it.
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