As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. A fever of shame ran through her being. Surely it was a dream. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. ” He shook his head, and threw open the door of a great dimly-lit apartment on the ground floor. “Exceptionally so. "Jack," exclaimed the widow, starting up and drawing back the curtain. . Kneebone helped to the pigeon-pie; while Thames unwired and uncorked a bottle of stout Carnarvonshire ale.
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