"Enough," said the widow, gratefully. “It may be true, but it isn’t quite what I have in mind. Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. Never. His eyes never left her face. Perhaps I deceived you about it. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly.
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