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. “Solitary walks?” “That’s the point of them. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. ” “Who says I don’t? Didn’t you used to live in Arkansas?” “Alabama. ‘So now you will please to go away and leave me to my business.
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