Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined. The Master of the Mint. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.
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