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Pope。 He turned to Orlando and presented her instantly with the rough draught of a certain famous line in the ‘Characters of Women’。 Much polish was afterwards bestowed on it； but even in the original it was striking enough。 Orlando received it with a curtsey。 Mr Pope left her with a bow。 Orlando； to cool her cheeks； for really she felt as if the little man had struck her； strolled in the nut grove at the bottom of the garden。 Soon the cool breezes did their work。 To her amazement she found that she was hugely relieved to find herself alone。 She watched the merry boatloads rowing up the river。 No doubt the sight put her in mind of one or two incidents in her past life。 She sat herself down in profound meditation beneath a fine willow tree。 There she sat till the stars were in the sky。 Then she rose； turned； and went into the house； where she sought her bedroom and locked the door。 Now she opened a cupboard in which hung still many of the clothes she had worn as a young man of fashion； and from among them she chose a black velvet suit richly trimmed with Veian lace。 It was a little out of fashion； indeed； but it fitted her to perfection and dressed in it she looked the very figure of a noble Lord。 She took a turn or two before the mirror to make sure that her petticoats had not lost her the freedom of her legs； and then let herself secretly out of doors。
It was a fine night early in April。 A myriad stars mingling with the light of a sickle moon； which again was enforced by the street lamps； made a light infinitely being to the human countenance and to the architecture of Mr Wren。 Everything appeared in its tenderest form； yet； just as it seemed on the point of dissolution； some drop of silver sharpened it to animation。 Thus it was that talk should be； thought Orlando （indulging in foolish reverie）； that society should be； that friendship should be； that love should be。 For； Heaven knows why； just as we have lost faith in human intercourse some random collocation of barns and trees or a haystack and a waggon presents us with so perfect a symbol of what is unattainable that we begin the search again。
She entered Leicester Square as she made these observations。 The buildings had an airy yet formal symmetry not theirs by day。 The canopy of the sky seemed most dexterously washed in to fill up the outline of roof and chimney。 A young woman who sat dejectedly with one arm drooping by her side； the other reposing in her lap； on a seat beneath a plane tree in the middle of the square seemed the very figure of grace； simplicity； and desolation。 Orlando swept her hat off to her in the manner of a gallant paying his addresses to a lady of fashion in a public place。 The young woman raised her head。 It was of the most exquisite shapeliness。 The young woman raised her eyes。 Orlando saw them to be of a lustre such as is sometimes seen on teapots but rarely in a human face。 Through this silver glaze the young woman looked up at him （for a man he was to her） appealing； hoping； trembling； fearing。 She rose； she accepted his arm。 For—need we stress the point？—she was of the tribe which nightly burnishes their wares； and sets them in order on the mon counter to wait the highest bidder。 She led Orlando to the room in Gerrard Street which was her lodging。 To feel her hanging lightly yet like a suppliant on her arm； roused in Orlando all the feelings which bee a man。 She looked； she felt； she talked like one。 Yet； having been so lately a woman herself； she suspected that the girl’s timidity and her hesitating answers and the very fumbling with the key in the latch and the fold of her cloak and the droop of her wrist were all put on to gratify her masculinity。 Upstairs they went； and the pains which the poor creature had been at to decorate her room and hide the fact that she had no other deceived Orlando not a moment。 The deception roused her scorn； the truth roused her pity。 One thing showing through the other bred the oddest assortment of feeling； so that she did not know whether to laugh or to cry。 Meanwhile Nell； as the girl called herself； unbuttoned her gloves； carefully concealed the left–hand thumb； which wanted mending； then drew behind a screen； where； perhaps； she rouged her cheeks； arranged her clothes； fixed a new kerchief round her neck—all the time prattling as women do； to amuse her lover； though Orlando could have sworn； from the tone of her voice； that her thoughts were elsewhere。 When all was ready； out she came； prepared—but here Orlando could stand it no longer。 In the strangest torment of anger； merriment； and pity she flung off all disguise and admitted herself a woman。
At this； Nell burst into such a roar of laughter as might have been heard across the way。
‘Well； my dear；’ she said； when she had somewhat recovered； ‘I’m by no means sorry to hear it。 For the plain Dunstable of the matter is’ （and it was remarkable how soon； on discovering that they were of the same sex； her manner changed and she dropped her plaintive； appealing ways）； ‘the plain Dunstable of the matter is； that I’m not in the mood for the society of the other sex to–night。 Indeed； I’m in the devil of a fix。’ Whereupon； drawing up the fire and stirring a bowl of punch； she told Orlando the whole story of her life。 Since it is Orlando’s life that engages us at present； we need not relate the adventures of the other lady； but it is certain that Orlando had never known the hours speed faster or more merrily； though Mistress Nell had not a particle of wit about her； and when the name of Mr Pope came up in talk asked innocently if he were connected with the perruque maker of that name in Jermyn Street。 Yet； to Orlando； such is the charm of ease and the seduction of beauty； this poor girl’s talk； larded though it was with the monest expressions of the street corners； tasted like wine after the fine phrases she had been used to； and she was forced to the conclusion that there was something in the sneer of Mr Pope； in the condescension of Mr Addison； and in the secret of Lord Chesterfield which took away her relish for the society of wits； deeply though she must continue to respect their works。
These poor creatures； she ascertained；