“Never mind, we shall understand each other well enough for the purpose I dare say.”
He wrote several tickets for four and six guineas each; but one was marked twelve guineas.
“She is doubly pretty, is she?” said I.
“Not exactly, but she has cuckolded a duke of Great Britain who keeps her, and only uses her once or twice a month.”
“Would you do me the honour of testing the skill of my cook?”
“Certainly, but I can’t make an appointment.”
“And supposing I am out.”
“I’ll go to the tavern.”
Having nothing better to do I sent Jarbe to one of the four-guinea wenches, telling him to advise her that she would dine with me. She came. She did not attract me sufficiently to make me attempt more than some slight toying. She went away well pleased with her four guineas, which she had done nothing to earn. Another wench, also at four guineas, supped with me the following evening. She had been very pretty, and, indeed, was so still, but she was too melancholy and quiet for my taste, and I could not makeup my mind to tell her to undress.
The third day, not feeling inclined to try another ticket, I went to Covent Garden, and on meeting an attractive young person I accosted her in French, and asked her if she would sup with me.