“Lucy, that’s horrible. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. ‘Shocked you, have I? We weren’t mealy-mouthed in my day, my boy. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. ’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret. “You poor thing. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly.
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