“We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. “You see the pointer?” he asked. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. She came to befriend the female mistresses, some who were even so audacious as to bring their children into the house. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats.
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