"You heard me say it! It was inevitable. Never bought a shirt in my life, Mr. ’ ‘Then what?’ demanded Lucilla in a hushed tone. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. As she came in this morning she saw that the lamp was still burning in the study; so she stopped at the door.
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