" "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. "I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs. "And, may I be cursed if I ever did anything in my whole life which gave me so much satisfaction. Ramage,” she said, “please don’t talk like this. I am one of those people who are interested in women, more interested than I am in anything else. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. It was a haunted place.
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