The next day, Sunday, he took her to church, at St. James's in Piccadilly, where they had difficulty in getting seats, and where several pious dowagers were scandalised at the inattention of their male company to the service. Ned walked out alone in the afternoon, but, to his surprise, he was not accosted by any gentleman pretending to recognise him as some one else, as a means of knowing him as himself.
On Monday he made himself seen at numerous coffee-houses and taverns, but, although he came upon two or three faces that he had noted in the theatre, no one looked at him with any sign of recollection. "Well, well," thought he, and afterward said to Madge, "in time they will come to remember me as the lovely creature's escort; at first their eyes will be all for the lovely creature herself."
They went to Covent Garden that evening, and to the Haymarket the next; and subsequently to public assemblies: Madge everywhere arresting attention, and exciting whispers and elbowings among observers wherever she passed. At the public balls, she was asked to dance, by fellows of whom neither she nor Ned approved, but who, Ned finally came to urge, might be useful acquaintances as leading to better ones. But she found all of them contemptible, and would not encourage any of them.
"If we could only get an invite to some private entertainment, the thing would be done in a jiffy," said Ned, "but damn it, you won't lead on any of these fellows—sure they must know ladies to whom they would mention you."
"I shouldn't think much of ladies that sought acquaintances on their recommendation."
"Why, curse it, we must begin somewhere, to get in."
"If we began where these could open the doors, I warrant we shouldn't get very far in."
"Rat me if I understand why the men that are taken with you at the play, and elsewhere—real gentlemen of quality, some of 'em—never try to follow you up through me. I've put myself in their way, the Lord knows. Maybe they think I'm your husband. Curse it, there is a difficulty! If you walked alone, in St. James Park, or past the clubs—?"
"You scoundrel, do you think I've come to that?"
Her look advised him not to pursue his last suggestion. By this time his expectations from their public appearances together had been sadly dampened. They must make acquaintances; creditable ones, that is to say, for of another kind he had enough and to spare.