"Mrs. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. ‘Do not be imbecile. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. By policemen one mustn’t shock. "It is useless," replied Mrs. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. "What!" she exclaimed, almost choked with passion,—"I advised you to burthen yourself with that idle and good-for-nothing pauper, who'm you ought rather to send to the workhouse than maintain at your own expense, did I! I advised you to take him as an apprentice; and, so far from getting the regular fee with him, to give him a salary? I advised you to feed him, and clothe him, and treat him like his betters; to put up with his insolence, and wink at his faults? I counselled all this, I suppose. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. And you are something of a heroine, too.
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