Of a Meeting near Fulham
a strapping madam, robed in a magnificent gown, and her eyes like the lights in a black pool.
“You rogue,” says I to Old Rowley, “what an admirable taste you show, for sure.”
“I was in hopes,” says he in the same whisper, “that you would have attributed the taste to the lady. ’Tis a compliment they expect.”
But she then, coming forward very rapidly, started aback slightly, on seeing me and drew herself up, questioning His Majesty with her eyes.
“Madam,” says Old Rowley, bowing very gravely, “’Tis a friend of mine—this good gentleman, to whom your name being used with all admiration, he conceived a warm desire to be presented to you; the which, as one acquainted with your catholicity, I have made bold to grant. Like myself, he stands without the Law, following an illicit calling.”
Her brow darkened, and I could perceive at once from various ensigns that she owned
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