“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Her amusement fled and she stared at him, as a slow thump began beating at her breast. She confided in me yesterday. “Yes, I have heard of him, and I know him by sight,” he admitted. “Lord!” she said. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. She rode him gently.
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