He started up, called for a lamp, and proceeded to dress himself for the evening. He would dine at a coffee house in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden Theatre, and visit Mrs. Abington in the green room while his play--in which she did not appear--was being acted on the stage. He was unfortunate enough to meet Boswell in the coffee house, so that his design of thinking out, while at dinner, the course which he should pursue in regard to the actress--how far he would be safe in confiding in her--was frustrated. The little Scotchman was in great grief: Johnson had actually quarrelled with him--well, not exactly quarrelled, for it required two to make a quarel, and Boswell had steadily refused to contribute to such a disaster. Johnson, however, was so overwhelming a personality in Boswell's eyes he could almost make a quarrel without the assistance of a second person. “Psha! Sir,” said Goldsmith, “you know as little of Dr. Johnson as you do of the Irish nation and their characteristics.” “Perhaps that is so, but I felt that I was getting to know him,” said Boswell. “But now all is over; he will never see me again.” “Nay, man, cannot you perceive that he is only assuming this attitude in order to give you a chance of knowing him better?” said Goldsmith. “For the life of me I cannot see how that could be,” cried Boswell after a contemplative pause. “Why, sir, you must perceive that he wishes to impress you with a consciousness of his generosity.” “What, by quarrelling with me and declaring that he would never see me again?” “No, not in that way, though I believe there are some people who would feel that it was an act of generosity on Dr. Johnson's part to remain secluded for a space in order to give the rest of the world a chance of talking together.” “What does it matter about the rest of the world, sir?” “Not much, I suppose I should say, since he means me to be his biographer.” Boswell, of course, utterly failed to appreciate the sly tone in which the Irishman spoke, and took him up quite seriously. “Is it possible that he has been in communication with you, Dr. Goldsmith?” he cried anxiously. “I will not divulge Dr. Johnson's secrets, sir,” replied Goldsmith, with an affectation of the manner of the man who a short time before had said that Shakespeare was pompous. “Now you are imitating him,” said Boswell. “But I perceive that he has told you of our quarrel--our misunderstanding. It arose through you, sir.” “Through me, sir?” “Through the visit of your relative, the Dean, after we had dined at the Crown and Anchor. You see, he bound me down to promise him to tell no one of that unhappy occurrence, sir; and yet he heard that Garrick has lately been mimicking the Dean--yes, down to his very words, at the Reynolds's, and so he came to the conclusion that Garrick was made acquainted with the whole story by me. He sent for me yesterday, and upbraided me for half an hour.” “To whom did you give an account of the affair, sir?”