Our heads swim with the thought of being together. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. “I have come for an explanation,” she said. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. "You mentioned Mrs. "Your sympathy is being wasted. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. Wild here!" exclaimed Mrs.
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