Of a Meeting near Fulham
foot-boy was despatched, I passed the half-hour that ensued in a sweat of conjecture as to what was to fall out. It seemed that I, maybe, must presently cross swords with His Majesty’s own self, the which, as you may imagine, I was in no haste to do. But then I considered that, with the introduction of this friend, the affair might dispose itself suddenly in a new way, and that it was this appearance that was to procure Old Rowley out of his predicament. And yet again, if that were so, I could not but wonder why he did not reveal himself on the moment. In fine I could not bottom his design, which, whatever it was, seemed comfortable enough to him, for he expended his time quite easily, frolicking with the dog, and conducting a casual conversation upon indifferent topics with Madam and me. To see him so urbane and unruffled you might ha’ supposed he was the host enlivening his guests. But Madam had obviously passed into a state of despair, and bit her lips and looked frightened; and once she spoke, appealing to him.
“May not this farce end?” she says. Old
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