I had now liv'd near seven months with Mr. H . . .,
when one day returning to my lodgings from a visit in the
neighbourhood, where I us'd to stay longer, I found the
street door open, and the maid of the house standing at it,
talking with some of her acquaintances, so that I came in
without knocking; and, as I passed by, she told me Mr. H .
. . was above. I stept up-stairs into my own bed-chamber,
with no other thought than of pulling off my hat, etc., and
then to wait upon him in the dining room, into which my
bed-chamber had a door, as is common enough. Whilst I was
untying my hat-strings, I fancied I heard my maid Hannah's
voice and a sort of tussle, which raising my curiosity, I
stole softly to the door, where a knot in the wood had been
slipt out and afforded a very commanding peep-hole to the
scene then in agitation, the actors of which had been too
earnestly employ'd to hear my opening my own door, from the
landing-place of the stairs, into my bed-chamber.
The first sight that struck me was Mr. H . . . pulling
and hauling this coarse country strammel towards a couch
that stood in a corner of the dining room; to which the girl
made only a sort of awkward boidening resistance, crying out
so loud, that I, who listened at the door, could scarce hear
her: "Pray sir, don't . . . , let me alone . . . I am not
for your turn .
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