Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. " Starting at a rapid pace in the direction of the Old Bailey, and crossing Fleet Bridge, "for oyster tubs renowned," the trio skirted the right bank of the muddy stream until they reached Fleet Lane, up which they hurried. She had to think of something fast, or her reaction would start to make believers out of everyone. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. She would just have to show up and hope for the best. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. Mr. .
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