The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. ” “That’s why, in a way, I’m prudish. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. Worse than any man. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. It was possible that his first impressions had not been correct. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. ‘Pray you, mademoiselle, can you not—’ ‘No use trying to enlist Lucilla’s aid,’ snapped Roding. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat.
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