His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. “You!” she exclaimed. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. Mr. Better to remain silent. Take my word for it, your troubles are over. Paul's are his work. ” She smiled grimly at the recollection of that lunch—tea and roll at a cheap café.
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