There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. He had heard this talk before. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. Also he had said—laughing in that way with his eyes which made a flutter in her chest— that Prudence will find an Englishman to marry her. The watermen, who manned the larger wherry, immediately shipped their oars, grappled with the drifting skiff, and held it fast. The doctor frowned. But from the rest—you saved me. She looked stealthily at Anna. “I suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something.
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