Lounging near the doors, and in remote corners, were various
knots of silly young men, displaying various varieties of puppyism
and stupidity; amusing all sensible people near them with their
folly and conceit; and happily thinking themselves the objects of
general admiration--a wise and merciful dispensation which no
good man will quarrel with.
And lastly, seated on some of the back benches, where they had
already taken up their positions for the evening, were divers
unmarried ladies past their grand climacteric, who, not dancing
because there were no partners for them, and not playing cards
lest they should be set down as irretrievably single, were in the
favourable situation of being able to abuse everybody without
reflecting on themselves. In short, they could abuse everybody,
because everybody was there. It was a scene of gaiety, glitter, and
show; of richly-dressed people, handsome mirrors, chalked
floors, girandoles and wax-candles; and in all parts of the scene,
gliding from spot to spot in silent softness, bowing obsequiously
to this party, nodding familiarly to that, and smiling complacently
on all, was the sprucely-attired person of Angelo Cyrus Bantam,
Esquire, the Master of the Ceremonies.
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