" He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. Every word you utter puzzles me. 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. Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s.
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