We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. But stand by and hear such things said about my late mistress’s daughter, I won’t. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. I understand nothing of what you say. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Morals only begin when that is settled. I am going to take you entirely at your word. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper.
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