No one spoke to her. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. I can. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest.
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