See, it is on my cards—M. . She gloried in it: he needed her. 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, you can act!” she cried. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end.
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