In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. “I must live, you know. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. ” The young man accepted the letter and the message, and seemed about to close the door when a lady issued from one of the front rooms and intervened. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. Just speak the word," he added, drawing the knife significantly across his throat, "and I'll put it out of his power to do the same by your second. I would not have him know—now—for the world.
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