" "My wealth," replied Mrs. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. On the way he confessed. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. “What ought she to do?” “Suppose you—” “Yes, suppose I—” He felt that his advice was being asked. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground.
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