All this was poured forth with wonderful candour and geniality, and I, in response, opened to him my fortunes and prospects, keeping back nothing save the mention of Cydaria.

Mr Darrell was, or affected to be, astonished to learn that I was a stranger to London--my air smacked of the Mall and of no other spot in the world, he swore most politely--but made haste to offer me his services, proposing that, since Lord Arlington did not look for him that night, and he had abandoned his former lodging, we should lodge together at an inn he named in Covent Garden, when he could introduce me to some pleasant company.

I accepted his offer most eagerly.

Then he fell to talking of the Court, of the households of the King and the Duke, of Madame the Duchess of Orleans, who was soon to come to England, they said (on what business he did not know); next he spoke, although now with caution, of persons no less well known but of less high reputation, referring lightly to Lady Castlemaine and Eleanor Gwyn and others, while I listened, half-scandalised, half-pleased.

But I called him back by asking whether he were acquainted with one of the Duchess's ladies named Mistress Barbara Quinton.
"Surely," he said.