CHAPTER I. \" \"Oh, that is pretty. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. His vision was becoming accustomed to the faint light now and her features were clearer. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti. "What does Mr. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky.
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