The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for 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. I am determined to fight my own little battle with the world —there must be a place for me somewhere, and I mean to find it. The other buildings stood close together in rows; and so valuable was every inch of room accounted, that, in many cases, cellars, and even habitable apartments, were constructed in the solid masonry of the piers. But you belong to me—and I want you. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. Nothing ensued.
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