But she put up her hands to ward him off.
"I'll give you the kiss, Master Hamilton, if you insist.

But it will be only a bribe to induce you to do what is for your own good, and if you take it, I shall never come back to your room again." "Ah, Ned, here's another good girl!" exclaimed George, releasing Betty.
"There are two of them in the world! Who would have suspected it?
Keep your kisses for your husband, Betty." "Yes, Master Hamilton," she answered demurely, giving me a luminous glance, all unconscious of its meaning.

The glance was my first hint that perhaps Betty had at times been thinking of me.
"All right! Here's to bed, my girl," said Hamilton.
She smoothed the bed covering and turning to leave the room, said, "I'll come back when the physician arrives." I could easily see that Hamilton was going to have what the old women call a "bad night," so I asked Betty to sit with him, and she consenting, I went by river to my lodging in Whitehall, where I collected a few necessary articles in a bag and returned quickly as possible to the Old Swan.

When I reached George's room, I found Betty at her post.

The physician had given Hamilton a quieting potion, and he was resting, though at intervals he broke out, shouting his intention to kill the king.
During nearly two weeks Hamilton lay moaning and raving, sweet, dear Betty rarely leaving his side for more than a few minutes at a time.