FOOTNOTES: [A] At the hospital of Saint Giles for Lazars, the prisoners conveyed from the City of London towards Tyburn, there to be executed for treasons, felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof to drink, as their last refreshing in this life. ‘Oh, peste. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. And I want you for myself—for my wife. I had no curiosity of that kind. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. “We’re going to be sensible. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. You know you don’t mean it.
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