"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. It isn’t what I have been but what I am. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. For a long time he stared at the empty doorway.
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