Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. I am. CHAPTER XXX. “It is very nice of you to come, but I do not think for the present, at any rate, I could give him any other answer. And let us go on with our evening. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. . Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired.
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