Captain Hilary Roding and his inamorata, Miss Lucilla Froxfield. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. Every gibbet at Tyburn and Hounslow appeared to have been plundered of its charnel spoil to enrich the adjoining cabinet, so well was it stored with skulls and bones, all purporting to be the relics of highwaymen famous in their day. Once he suggested they should go to a music-hall and see a wonderful new dancer, but Ann Veronica did not feel she cared to see a new dancer.
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