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. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. Mr. 'Slife! you are wonderfully altered. Spurling, "ay and found Van Galgebrok too. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. Oh! I'm in such a fluster!" Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. For all her begging she had been given the choice to go into the nunnery and “learn how to read scrolls with the rest of God’s Spinsters” by her father, but had quickly lost interest when presented with the idea of bearing babies. He did not play golf, but took his exercise on horseback, which was also unsympathetic. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. "I believe I'll tear them up. ’ ‘How can you say so?’ protested Melusine.
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