“Where is she?” thought he. “What will she do? Will she send her maid with a note? How blue he will look! Or will she come herself? She is a country wife; there must be a scene. Oh, why doesn't she come into this room? She must know we are here! is she watching somewhere?” His brain became puzzled, and his senses were sharpened to a point; he was all eye, ear and expectation; and this was why he was the only one to hear a very slight sound behind the door we have mentioned, and next to perceive a lady's glove lying close to that door. Mabel had dropped it in her retreat. Putting this and that together, he was led to hope and believe she was there, making her toilet, perhaps, and her arrival at present unknown. “Do you expect no one else?” said he, with feigned carelessness, to Mr. Vane. “No,” said Mr. Vane, with real carelessness. “It must be so! What fortune!” thought Pomander. _Soaper._ “Mr. Cibber looks no older than he did five years ago.” _Snarl._ “There was no room on his face for a fresh wrinkle.” _Soaper._ “He! he! Nay, Mr. Snarl: Mr. Cibber is like old port; the more ancient he grows, the more delicious his perfume.” _Snarl._ “And the crustier he gets.” _Clive._ “Mr. Vane, you should always separate those two. Snarl, by himself, is just supportable; but, when Soaper paves the way with his hypocritical praise, the pair are too much; they are a two-edged sword.” _Woffington._ “Wanting nothing but polish and point.” _Vane._ “Gentlemen, we abandon your neighbor, Mr. Quin, to you.” _Quin._ “They know better. If they don't keep a civil tongue in their heads, no fat goes from here to them.” _Cibber._ “Ah, Mr. Vane; this room is delightful; but it makes me sad. I knew this house in Lord Longueville's time; an unrivaled gallant, Peggy. You may just remember him, Sir Charles?” _Pomander_ (with his eye on a certain door). “Yes, yes; a gouty old fellow.” Cibber fired up. “I wish you may ever be like him. Oh, the beauty, the wit, the _petits-soupers_ that used to be here! Longueville was a great creature, Mr. Vane. I have known him entertain a fine lady in this room, while her rival was fretting and fuming on the other side of that door.” “Ah, indeed!” said Sir Charles. “More shame for him,” said Mr. Vane. Here was luck! Pomander seized this opportunity of turning the conversation to his object. With a malicious twinkle in his eye, he inquired of Mr. Cibber what made him fancy the house had lost its virtue in Mr. Vane's hands.