She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. "My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr. " "You paint yourself worse than you are, dear Mrs. He was so horny that he could probably make love to a tree. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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