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had Dennis returned from an errand to the mantua maker (a mantua was a skirt and bodice open in the front) than he was off again to the milliner, and then to the hairdresser, and then to the perfumer. Last, there wasa parcel to deliver to Bolton Row – specifically, to the house where he had received the tip-off about his job.
    Again, he was invited in, but this time ushered into a back parlour, where – as the Genuine Memoirs described the scene – a giant fire was roaring and where the only other illumination came from four candles. Dennis sat himself close to the blaze, the delicious heat dispersing the cold in his bones. A young woman, with shyly averted face, brought him a tankard of mulled wine. He drained half of it in a gulp. More warmth suffused him; he did not want to move from this room. He looked at the girl, who for some reason was loitering by the door, and got a general impression of comeliness. He asked her what she was called. She replied obliquely: she had been asked to entertain Mr Kelly 3 until her mistress should return, ‘and indeed I am happy to be in your company, Sir, for I do not like to be alone’.
    This was promising, Dennis thought. ‘Upon my soul, ’ he asserted, ‘I am equally happy, and wish to be more so. Come sit by me.’
    The girl approached, sat, and turned towards him. She was Lady —. They fell on each other; bodices, and other garments too, were ripped. As evening turned to night, and as the fire subsided, they enjoyed mutual happiness. At last, Lady — said she must leave. Exchanging her servant’s clothes for her usual ones, and leaving Dennis with another purse, she sought her coach, which had been waiting a few doors away.
    Dennis, more dazedly, reassembled his attire. Returning to the workaday world was a wearying prospect. But there was another surprise, less welcome, in store. The door of the parlour opened, and the old woman whom he had conducted to the house three days earlier entered. You have done well for yourself, she observed; such fortune would never have befallen you had it notbeen for my assistance. No doubt you would want to reward me accordingly – my mistress and I depend on taking advantage of such eventualities. Your mistress gave you a purse earlier, and, as a man of honour, you should share it.
    Dennis was nonplussed. Surely this woman had no claim on him? ‘By Jasus, ’ he replied, ‘but she never gave me a single guinea.’
    The woman smiled complacently. ‘Come, my dear creature, ’ she said (pronouncing it ‘creter’), ‘come along with me, and I’ll show you the difference.’
    She took him by the hand, and led him to the front parlour. On the wall was a small looking glass. She removed it, revealing an aperture, and invited Dennis to look through. He got a fine view of the back parlour, and particularly of the part of it near the fire. Resignedly, he reached for the purse, looked inside, and saw that it contained an enormous sum: twenty-five guineas. ‘’Tis only my right that I take ten, ’ the woman told him, ‘as I must account for it to my mistress.’ Dennis knew when he was cornered. He handed over the money.
    This dampener did not submerge his enthusiasm for the affair, which continued happily for several months. It was both delightful and profitable. But Dennis was not Lady —’s only sideline. The Genuine Memoirs said that she took lovers among her own set, too; and, unfortunately, Lord — was not as liberal in his attitudes to such behaviour as were some eighteenth-century husbands. He threw her out of doors, and divorced her. With Dennis’s mistress went Dennis’s job.
    After a taste of life in Hanover Square, Dennis was not inclined to return to hauling a licensed sedan chair. He might continue to enjoy the high life, he reasoned, if he lived by his wits. He frequented the Vauxhall pleasure gardens, where, for a