Still she was a barmaid, and I could not always bring myself to respect her as she deserved.

Time and again I resolved in all sincerity never to see her again.

Since I could not marry her, I would gain nothing but unhappiness myself and perhaps misery for her by continuing my suit.
But when back in London, I persuaded myself that it was my duty to see George, and tried to shut my eyes to the fact that Betty was the real cause of my anxiety.
When I reached the Old Swan, I soon found Betty, and there could be no mistake in my reading of the light I saw in her eyes.
After talking with her a minute or two in the tap-room, I asked her to tell me of Hamilton, and she said hesitatingly that he had left the inn nearly two months ago.
"Do you know where he is ?" I asked.
She answered hesitatingly, "N-o-o-o." I saw that she did not want to be questioned, so I remained chatting with her for an hour, and returned to Whitehall, very proud that I had restrained my tongue during the interview.
* * * * * On the afternoon following my interview with Betty, I was sitting in my room adjoining my Lord's private closet in the Wardrobe, trying in vain to think of something besides Betty, when I heard a peal of merry laughter, which I recognized as Nelly Gwynn's.

Immediately following, I heard the deep, unmistakable voice of the king.

They had just entered my Lord's private closet, between which and my room there was a loosely hung door, permitting me to hear all that was said.
"Ah, Rowley," said Nell.