When it was over, he bid me, with a tone of displeasure, get up, —— “that he would not do me the honour to think of me any more, —— that the old b—h might look out for another cully, —— that he would not be fool’d so by e’er a country mock-modesty in England —— that he supposed I had left my maidenhead with some hobnail in the country, and was come to dispose of my skim-milk in town,” with a volley of the like abuse; which I listened to with more pleasure than ever fond woman did to protestations of love, from her darling minion: for, incapable as I was of receiving any addition to my perfect hatred and aversion to him, I look’d on this railing as my security against his renewing his most odious caresses.




















