Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled. What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine. "I am innocent, f have stolen nothing. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman.
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