‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. ToC Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossessing appearance took his way, one afternoon, along Wych Street; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habitation. The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. “I have found out at last what a useless person I am —from a utilitarian point of view. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor.
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