" "You are very kind, Sir," returned the widow, "but I require no support. ’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be.
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