“Everybody one meets,” cried Lady Honoria, “disposes of Miss Beverley to some new person; yet the common opinion is that Sir Robert Floyer will be the man. But upon my word, for my own part, I cannot conjecture how she will manage among them, for Mr Marriot declares he's determined he won't be refused, and Sir Robert vows that he'll never give her up. So we none of us know how it will end; but I am vastly glad she keeps them so long in suspence.” “If there is any suspence,” said Cecilia, “I am at least sure it must be wilful. But why should your ladyship rejoice in it?” “O, because it helps to torment them, and keeps something going forward. Besides, we are all looking in the news-papers every day, to see when they'll fight another duel for you.” “Another?” cried Cecilia; “indeed they have never yet fought any for me.” “O, I beg your pardon,” answered her ladyship, “Sir Robert, you know, fought one for you in the beginning of the winter, with that Irish fortune-hunter who affronted you at the Opera.” “Irish fortune-hunter?” repeated Cecilia, “how strangely has that quarrel been misrepresented! In the first place, I never was affronted at the Opera at all, and in the second, if your Ladyship means Mr Belfield, I question if he ever was in Ireland in his life.” “Well,” cried Lady Honoria, “he might come from Scotland, for aught I know, but somewhere he certainly came from; and they tell me he is wounded terribly, and Sir Robert has had all his things packed up this month, that in case he should die, he may go abroad in a moment.” “And pray where, Lady Honoria,” cried Mrs Delvile, “do you contrive to pick up all this rattle?” “O, I don't know; everybody tells me something, so I put it all together as well as I can. But I could acquaint you with a stranger piece of news than any you have heard yet.” “And what is that?” “O, if I let you know it, you'll tell your son.” “No indeed,” said Mrs Delvile laughing, “I shall probably forget it myself.” She then made some further difficulty, and Cecilia, uncertain if she was meant to be a party in the communication, strolled to a window; where, however, as Lady Honoria did not lower her voice, she heard her say “Why you must know I am told he keeps a mistress somewhere in Oxford-Road. They say she's mighty pretty; I should like vastly to see her.”