From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. The pearls were really yours?" "They were left to me by my mother. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. Leave the rest to me. ” It took some days for this phase to pass, and it left some scars and something like a decision.
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