If the work did not entirely drive away the remembrance of Lancelot Vane it enabled her to look upon the romance of her early maidenhood with equanimity.

Her love affair had become a regret tinged with a pleasureable sadness.
She was beginning to be known in the profession.

Now and again she wrote to her old friend Gay and he replied with encouraging letters.

His opera was finished, he told her, Colley Cibber had refused to have anything to do with it and it was now in the hands of John Rich.
"I can see thee, my dear, in Polly Peachum.

I've had you in mind in the songs.