ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. It may be a long string, long enough if you like to tangle up all sorts of people; but there it is! If the paymaster pulls, home she must go. The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty. They will find me dead, yes. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style.
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