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. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. When she came to herself, she found that her brother had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant. We dine at seven-thirty. She could stow away, go to a place where there were no people to eat and end her life. . The Storm VII. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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