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 by this time he was accustomed to Vivian Grey, and sent him the portion he had intended for himself—could epicure do more?

"Who are we among, bright Cynthia?" asked Vivian.

"Oh! an odd set," said the lady, looking dignified; "but you know we can be exclusive."

"Exclusive! pooh! trash—talk to every body—it looks as if you were going to stand for the county. Have we any of the Millionaires near us?"

"The Doctor, and Toadey are lower down."

"Where's Mrs. Felix Lorraine?"

"At the opposite table, with Ernest Clay."

"Oh! there's Alhambra next to Dormer Stanhope. Lord Alhambra, I'm quite rejoiced to see you."

"Ah! Mr. Grey—I'm quite rejoiced to see you. How's your father?"'

"Extremely well—he's at Paris—I heard