Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. I can talk with them.
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