” “I did not come,” she faltered. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. It is just how things happen to be. “Well?” she said. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. “He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. Martin's Le Grand. .
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