"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. He felt he had raised a storm which it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to allay. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. ” Anna raised her eyes, and caught the earnest gaze of an elderly gentleman with a double chin, a protuberant under lip, and a snuff-stained coat.
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