Page:Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure (1749, vol. 1).pdf/104

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Memoirs of a

hour: It came at last, the dear, critical, dangerous hour came; and now supported only by the courage love lent me, I ventur'd a tip-toe, down stairs, leaving my box behind, for fear of being surpriz'd with it in going out.

I got to the street-door, the key whereof was always laid on the chair by our bed-side, in trust with Phœbe, who having not the least suspicion of my entertaining any design to go from them, (nor indeed had I but the day before) made no reserve, or concealment of it from me. I open'd the door then with great ease; love that embolden'd, protected me too: and now, got safe into the street, I saw my new guardian-angel waiting at a coach-door ready open. How I got to him I know not: I suppose I flew; but I was in the coach in a trice, and he by the side of me, with his arms clasp'd round me, and giving me the kiss of welcome.——The coachman had his orders, and drove to them.

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