19) Nor is this ghost altogether laid to rest, even as Polyandria and her charge return 'with Triumph' to Dublin.
It is Polyandria, this new mother-manager, who soon engineers Cornelia's second, now reluctant, visit to the Irish countryside.
The narrative co-ordinates of this encounter are carefully plotted: while Polyandria disappears off to the nearby city, the Widow takes Cornelia for a walk in the garden.
But this is picaresque; any romance expectations we may yet hold out, concerning the possibility of either virtue or redemption are preempted as Head undermines his own careful setting of the pastoral scene with a sly wink to his reader: 'here note, that this widow was little less honester in her body (as we use to say) than Polyandria had been heretofore, but of a far more noble and ingenious soul' (p.
21) The Widow might have a garden, and an initially kindly way with words, but she offers in the end no counter-model to the urban Polyandria.
Cornelia sets up house in St Patrick's Close where the lodging house-keeper is Polyandria, 'who had been wanton herself and was now a private bawd.
Polyandria abuses the knight at 'The Globe', an ale house near the castle, and acts as Cornelia's madam, arranging that she be kept by the knight.