Shuff. I mean to be your friend, my love. There, [Giving her the Letter.] Mrs. Brown, Howland-Street; an old acquaintance of mine; a very goodnatured, discreet, elderly lady, I assure you.
Mary. You are very good, sir, but I shall be ashamed to look such a discreet person in the face, if she hears my story.
Shuff. No, you needn't;—she has a large stock of charity for the indiscretions of others, believe me.
Mary. I don't know how to thank you, sir. The unfortunate must look up to such a lady, sure, as a mother.
Shuff. She has acquired that appellation.——You'll be very comfortable;—and, when I arrive in town, I'll—
Enter Peregrine.
Who have we here?—Oh!—ha!—ha!—This must be the gentleman she mentioned to Frank in her letter.—rather an ancient ami.
[Aside.
Pereg. So! I suspected this might be the case. [Aside.] You are Mr. Rochdale, I presume sir?
Shuff. Yes, sir, you do presume;—but I am not Mr. Rochdale.