BEADLE. (_as before—pointing to O’WALKER’S umbrella, touching his hat, &c.; O’WALKER puts umbrella down_) Please, sir, one of the ladies dropt this article—perhaps you’ll take care of it, sir? O’WALKER. (_taking the reticule_) Of course—here! (_feels in his pocket—then puts his hand into the reticule, takes out purse, and gives the BEADLE money_) I always make a point of rewarding honesty—there’s half-a crown for you! (_puts purse in his pocket—BEADLE touches his hat, and retires_) As I said before, I can’t help laughing; that poor innocent little Fanny, too, flattering herself she’s the only woman I ever loved. If she could only see a catalogue of my tender attachments, she’d find herself about the hundred and sixteenth on the list—that dear Patty Peckover, for instance. I do believe I should have married that Patty Peckover if she hadn’t had so many cousins in the Life Guards; but she was a good-hearted soul—she never would have treated me as Miss Amelia Jones has done. When I think of the number of cubas I’ve smoked in that woman’s little back parlour, and the bill I owe that woman for those cubas, that woman’s ingratitude quite shocks me! Here’s a letter she wrote me yesterday. (_taking out letter and reading_) “Perfidious monster”—that’s so like Amelia Jones, that is—“you’re going to be married, are you? Don’t deny it, hideous wretch that you are;” that’s Amelia Jones all over, that is—(_reading_)—“but I’ll be revenged: listen—I have kept your letters, miscreant!” that’s a favourite expression of Amelia Jones’s, that is—(_reading_)—“and to-morrow they shall be in the hands of your intended. So tremble, viper! and believe me to remain as usual—your fond and affectionate—Amelia.” Now any one would imagine that Amelia Jones was an exceedingly ill-used young woman—but it’s no such thing. I went to her shop in Little Windmill Street this evening, prepared to offer her a shilling a piece for my letters, she wasn’t at home—so I went into her little back parlour, and there, lying open upon the table, and staring me in the face, was this letter (_showing letter_)—beginning with “Loveliest of Amelias,” and winding up with “Your fondest of Browns.” Now here’s a woman who’s got a Brown—a mysterious Brown—a Brown who by his own account is the “fondest of Browns,” and yet this woman presumes to call me a viper. Such is the sex—I grieve to say, but such is the sex. (_during the above he has been occasionally cracking nuts, which he takes out of MRS. JELLICOE’S reticule—very suddenly_) Goodness gracious, I forgot Dibbs! (_pulling out his watch_) A quarter to two! Why it was a quarter to two the last time I looked. (_holding the watch to his ear_) It’s stopped—that’s pleasant; what’s to be done now? Ah, there goes an omnibus. Here! Stop! Conductor—Pimlico—— _Puts up his umbrella, and runs out at L., nearly upsetting MR. BARBICAN BROWN, who enters at the same time._