ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. What a heat that news had wrought. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. I believe I’m in love. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. "And equally easy to prove it," replied Jack, giving him the paper he had abstracted from Wild.
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