The three young men exchanged expressive glances. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. ’ ‘Well, let us leave your name for the present. "Come along, Mrs. " In spite of her displeasure, Winifred could not help smiling at the absurdity of this address. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned.
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