He turned to Mrs. ” The brutality of his first astonishment was evaporating. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. But just now there is nothing which you or anybody can do. ” “What do you want?” he asked, bluntly. However, confession of a fault makes half amends for it.
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