There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. Wait, though. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. His first date, he was a late bloomer for a Popular. She had reason enough to be grateful to Prudence Sindlesham and it was not fair that this horrible feeling of loneliness should be made known to her. As a dog eats grass. "A capital instrument for my purpose," thought Jack, shouldering it, "and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it. CHAPTER XII.
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