 the better of her prudence. It was this: she had heard—nay she knew it beyond doubt, or nothing could have induced her to believe it—that our hero kept a mistress, that he had a private lodging for her, and visited her as often as his leisure permitted.
This indeed was true; and though she thought nothing of now and then a random intrigue, in a young man, yet an engagement of this kind might, especially as he was surrounded with enemies, prove of dangerous consequence to his interest in Annette.
This fact, as a historian of veracity, I am obliged to admit. Charles certainly in his commerce with women of indifferent reputation—to which his youth and the warmth of his constitution too much

addicted him—had met with one who had something more decent in her manners than the rest, and, upon her promise to detach herself from her abandoned companions, he had made her comfortable at that time, and intended afterwards to provide for her.
It was impossible for Charles to have the least degree of intimacy with any person, and not be attached to their interest. This girl had many attractions, which her lover was not insensible of. Nay his word might have been deeply engaged, had not her levity checked his hand. As it was, he stood engaged in an intercourse pleasureable enough, and which he could put an end to when he pleased, without a breach of honour.
The moment therefore Emma went away, this he determined to do, for he swore that Annette should in future engross all his amorous thoughts. He called immediately at the lodgings of Miss Newton, where, without ceremony, he entered the bedchamber; but what was his astonishment when, in so doing, he saw her in bed, at twelve o'clock at noon, with the waiter of a bagnio.
Charles made the gentleman jump up, very coolly

kicked him down stairs, and threw his clothes after him. This done, he waited on the lady, who would first have brazened the matter out, but finding he was absolutely bent on parting with her, she dissolved into tears;
Seizing this opportunity, he said he did not chuse to be made a dupe of; that he had conceived the comforts she had tasted would have made her better consider her own interest; but he plainly saw that she could relish no pleasures that were not tainted with vicious ingratitude. He should not however upbraid her: perhaps he himself had been to blame, in supposing that one so utterly abandoned should retain a spark of shame or decency.
He added, that her furniture, watch, and
