"Confounded disagreeable fellow," soliloquized Hyacinth, as he handed him over to a knot of ladies in the drawing-room; "very awkward that paragraph; I wish I had the fellow who wrote it, at pistol-shot distance just now; well, if I am badgered on the subject of 'Floy's' poverty, I shall start a paragraph saying, that the story is only a publisher's trick to make her book sell; by Jove, they don't corner me; I have got out of worse scrapes than that before now, by the help of my wits and the lawyers, but I don't think a paper of any influence would attack me on that point; I have taken care to secure all the more prominent ones, long ago, by judicious puffs of their editors in the Irving Magazine. The only one I fear is the ----, and I will lay an anchor to windward there this very week, by praising the editor's last stupid editorial. What an unmitigated donkey that fellow is." CHAPTER LXXIX. "How are you, Walter," said Mr. Lewis, extending his hand; "fine day; how goes the world with you? They say _you_ are a man who dares to 'hew to the line, let the chips fly in whose face they will.' Now, I want you to tell me if 'Floy' is _really_ a sister of Hyacinth Ellet, the editor of 'The Irving Magazine.' I cannot believe it, though he boasted of it to me the other day, I hear such accounts of her struggles and her poverty. I cannot see into it." "It is very easily understood," said Mr. Walter, with a dark frown on his face; "Mr. Hyacinth Ellet has always had one hobby, namely--social position. For that he would sacrifice the dearest friend or nearest relative he had on earth. His sister was once in affluent circumstances, beloved and admired by all who knew her. Hyacinth, at that time, was very friendly, of course; her husband's wine and horses, and his name on change, were things which the extravagant Hyacinth knew how to appreciate. "Hall ('Floy's' husband) was a generous-hearted, impulsive fellow, too noble himself to see through the specious, flimsy veil which covered so corrupt a heart as Hyacinth's. Had he been less trusting, less generous to him, 'Floy' might not have been left so destitute at his death. When that event occurred, Hyacinth's regard for his sister evaporated in a lachrymose obituary notice of Hall in the Irving Magazine. The very day after his death, Hyacinth married Julia Grey, or rather married her fortune. His sister, after seeking in vain to get employment, driven to despair, at last resorted to her pen, and applied to Hyacinth, then the prosperous editor of the Irving Magazine, either to give her employment as a writer, or show her some way to obtain it. At that time Hyacinth was constantly boasting of the helping hand he had extended to young writers in their extremity, (whom, by the way, he paid in compliments after securing their articles,) and whom, he was constantly asserting, had been raised by him from, obscurity to fame."