And, as he quitted the room, the poor widow fell with her face upon the floor. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. ‘How is your plan now, mon brave?’ Melusine taunted. The ladies were, as usual, very gaily dressed; and as usual, also, had resorted to art to heighten their attractions— From patches, justly placed, they borrow'd graces, And with vermilion lacquer'd o'er their faces.
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