She told me the street and the number of the house where she lodged. In the evening I put a bank-bill in my pocket and went to the house. I inquired for Mrs. Reynolds and was shewn up stairs, at the head of which she met me and conducted me into a bed room. I took the bill out of my pocket and gave it to her. Some conversation ensued from which it was quickly apparent that other than pecuniary consolation would be acceptable.Or just listen.
N.B. Took the kids to the Washington Crossing reenactment yesterday. No one was specifically designated as Hamilton or Burr. Also, it was sixty-plus freakin' degrees.