But whom could she lean upon? She asked that question of the wild autumn winds. For it was now October, and wet as usual. Not the Archduke; he had married a very great lady and had hunted hares in Romania these many years now; nor Mr. M. ; he was become a Catholic; nor the Marquis C. ; he made sacks in Botany Bay; nor the Lord O. ; he had long been food for fishes. One way or another, all her old cronies were gone now, and the Nells and the Kits of Drury Lane, much though she favoured them, scarcely did to lean upon.