Ripton saw what had happened. He was going to follow: the portly dame
retained him, and desired him to get her a cab.

"Oh, you happy fellow!" said the bright-eyed mignonne, passing by.

Ripton procured the cab, and stuffed it full without having to get into
it himself.

"Try and let him come in too?" said the persecuting creature, again
passing.

"Take liberties with pour men--you shan't with me," retorted the angry
bosom, and drove off.

"So she's been and gone and run away and left him after all his trouble!"
cried the pert little thing, peering into Ripton's eyes. "Now you'll
never be so foolish as to pin your faith to fat women again. There! he
shall be made happy another time." She gave his nose a comical tap, and
tripped away with her possessor.

Ripton rather forgot his friend for some minutes: Random thoughts laid
hold of him. Cabs and carriages rattled past. He was sure he had been
among members of the nobility that day, though when they went by him now
they only recognized him with an effort of the eyelids. He began to
think of the day with exultation, as an event. Recollections of the
mignonne were captivating. "Blue eyes--just what I like! And such a
little impudent nose, and red lips, pouting--the very thing I like! And
her hair? darkish, I think--say brown. And so saucy, and light on her
feet. And kind she is, or she wouldn't have talked to me like that."