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. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. " "You daren't use it. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. \" He had caught her in a moment of weakness; the hunger had made her emotional! She felt a terrible warmth surge from her loins. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom. Footman or some such. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content.
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