A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. “What a hideous repertoire! If you are in earnest about wanting to earn money, why on earth don’t you accept an engagement here?” “An engagement?” she queried. The door leaned inward. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. ’ Martha got up with a swish of her black habit. Manning,” she began. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl.
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