"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. As soon as she noticed the stranger, she honoured him with an extremely impudent stare, and scarcely endeavoured to disguise the admiration with which his good looks impressed her. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door. We felt like thieves. But most of all, I wanted to love. ‘Gérard is not mad, only of a disposition entirely interfering. We’ve brought a carriage to take you back to London, and I’ve settled with Trodger, who has just given me a coherent account of the affair.
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