‘You see,’ he pursued blandly, ‘I lead a life of the most intolerable boredom. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. ” He whispered back as he pulled her pants and underwear off of her trembling legs. Gosse sneered. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago.
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