Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. 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. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down. You must be misinformed, Mr. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. Why, honestly enouch.
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