girl of
your common acquaintance in his hearing, the throwing-off young gentleman
starts, smiles, and begs you not to mind him, for it was quite
involuntary: people do say indeed that they were once engaged, but
no--although she is a very fine girl, he was so situated at that time
that he couldn't possibly encourage the--'but it's of no use talking
about it!' he adds, interrupting himself. 'She has got over it now, and
I firmly hope and trust is happy.' With this benevolent aspiration he
nods his head in a mysterious manner, and whistling the first part of
some popular air, thinks perhaps it will be better to change the subject.

There is another great characteristic of the throwing-off young
gentleman, which is, that he 'happens to be acquainted' with a most
extraordinary variety of people in all parts of the world. Thus in all
disputed questions, when the throwing-off young gentleman has no argument
to bring forward, he invariably happens to be acquainted with some
distant person, intimately connected with the subject, whose testimony
decides the point against you, to the great--may we say it--to the great
admiration of three young ladies out of every four, who consider the
throwing-off young gentleman a very highly-connected young man, and a
most charming person.

Sometimes the throwing-off young gentleman happens to look in upon a
little family circle of young ladies who are quietly spending the evening
together, and then indeed is he at the very height and summit of his
glory; for it is to be observed that he by no means shines to equal
advantage in the presence of men as in the society of over-credulous
young ladies, which is his proper element. It is delightful to hear the
number of pretty things the throwing-off young gentleman gives utterance
to, during tea, and still more so to observe the ease with which, from
long practice and study, he delicately blends one compliment to a lady
with two for himself. 'Did you ever see a more lovely blue than this
flower, Mr. Caveton?' asks a young lady who, truth to tell, is rather
smitten with the throwing-off young gentleman. 'Never,' he replies,
bending over the object of admiration, 'never but in your eyes.' 'Oh,
Mr. Caveton,' cries the young lady, blushing of course. 'Indeed I speak
the truth,' replies the throwing-off young gentleman, 'I never saw any
approach to them. I used to think my cousin's blue eyes lovely, but they
grow dim and colourless beside your