"I dare say you are right, Glenmore; and if so the more the pity. But although custom sanctions all change in reciprocal demeanour between men and women, yet because the stiff and _manière_ address of the last century was laid aside with the silk coat, and bag-wig, and sword, I do not see why courtly manners should have been exiled at the same time. So long as society is to exist on a proper footing, there must be an outward shew of proper feelings; and when all deference in minor points ceases, it is quite certain that all consideration of respect in more serious matters will cease too."--"What is that I hear?" cried Leslie Winyard, riding up to Lord Glenmore's side, and nodding familiarly to his companion;--"what is that I hear about proper feelings, and all consideration of respect? You are not moralizing in Hyde Park I hope." "D'Esterre says that you men do very wrong to sit on your horses, rank and file, and let the ladies parade before you; and I think what he says is true." "Indeed!" replied Mr. Leslie Winyard, and looking round in Lord Albert D'Esterre's face with a sneer, "I believe if we were not to do so, you would have very few beauties to admire in your ride,--the women only come here to see us."--"And what do _you_ come for?" asked Lord Glenmore smiling.--"Oh, to shew ourselves, certainly: to _be_ admired." Before he could reply to the insufferable impertinence of this speech--if indeed he would have deemed it worthy any reply--an equipage caught the eye of Lord Glenmore as it entered the gate, and putting spurs to his horse he was at its side in a moment and speaking to the ladies in it. "Whose carriage is that?" asked Lord Albert of Leslie Winyard, who continued to saunter his horse in company with him. "It's the Melcombe's," he replied, after a pause, and having put the handle of his whip, which contained a glass, to his eye--"it's the Melcombe's: Georgina is a d--d fine girl. Don't you know Georgina? they say Glenmore is smitten,--I'll go and see the fun;" and, with these words, this model of the gallantry of the nineteenth century rode off. "What can he mean," said Lord Albert to himself, "by calling any woman familiarly by her name in that manner, unless she be his sister or near relative; but to me, a stranger almost to himself, and to the party utterly unknown, what abominable vulgarity, what detestable insolence!"