Chapter 68

AUSTIN. Upon my word, I think the world is getting better. We were none of us young men like that--in my time--to quote my future brother. (_He sits down before the mirror._) Well, here ends Beau Austin. Paris, Rome, Vienna, London--victor everywhere: and now he must leave his bones in Tunbridge Wells. (_Looks at his leg._) Poor Dolly Musgrave! a good girl after all, and will make me a good wife; none better. The last--of how many?--ay, and the best! Walks like Hebe. But still, here ends Beau Austin. Perhaps it's time. Poor Dolly--was she looking poorly? She shall have her wish. Well, we grow older, but we grow no worse.