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. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. She’s obsessed with him, you know, totally obsessed. He has hanged twelve of his associates already. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. It was time to get up. He’s a catch, Lucy.
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