The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. I'll stamp twice when we've done. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own.
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