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” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas. when I was five. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. No, this was imbecile. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world.
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