“As to being an Ambassador, ma'am,” said Mr Hobson, “it's talking quite out of character. Those sort of great people keep things of that kind for their own poor relations and cousins. What I say is this; a man's best way is to take care of himself. The more those great people see you want them, the less they like your company. Let every man be brought up to business, and then when he's made his fortune, he may walk with his hat on. Why now there was your friend, ma'am,” turning to Cecilia, “that shot out his brains without paying any body a souse; pray how was that being more genteel than standing behind a counter, and not owing a shilling?” “Do you think a young lady,” cried Mrs Belfield warmly, “can bear to hear of such a thing as standing behind a counter? I am sure if my son had ever done it, I should not expect any lady would so much as look at him, And yet, though I say it, she might look a good while, and not see many such persons, let her look where she pleased. And then he has such a winning manner into the bargain, that I believe in my heart there's never a lady in the land could say no to him. And yet he has such a prodigious shyness, I never could make him own he had so much as asked the question. And what lady can begin first?” “Why no,” said Mr Hobson, “that would be out of character another way. Now my notion is this; let every man be agreeable! and then he may ask what lady he pleases. And when he's a mind of a lady, he should look upon a frown or two as nothing; for the ladies frown in courtship as a thing of course; it's just like a man swearing at a coachman; why he's not a bit more in a passion, only he thinks he sha'n't be minded without it.” “Well, for my part,” said Mrs Belfield, “I am sure if I was a young lady, and most especially if I was a young lady of fortune, and all that, I should like a modest young gentleman, such as my son, for example, better by half than a bold swearing young fellow, that would make a point to have me whether I would or no.” “Ha! Ha! Ha!” cried Mr Hobson; “but the young ladies are not of that way of thinking; they are all for a little life and spirit. Don't I say right, young ladies?” Cecilia, who could not but perceive that these speeches was levelled at herself, felt offended and tired; and finding she had no chance of any private conversation with Henrietta, arose to take leave: but while she stopped in the passage to enquire when she could see her alone, a footman knocked at the door, who, having asked if Mr Belfield lodged there, and been answered in the affirmative; begged to know whether Miss Beverley was then in the house? Cecilia, much surprised, went forward, and told him who she was. “I have been, madam,” said he, “with a message to you at Mr Monckton's, in Soho-Square: but nobody knew where you was; and Mr Monckton came out and spoke to me himself, and said that all he could suppose was that you might be at this house. So he directed me to come here.”