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" "Oh, dear!" simpered Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to hide her confusion by looking steadfastly at her plate. The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. "I'll be back in a minute. "Don't look at it, I entreat," she cried. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. They began the evening like usual, driving down highways and byways. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house.
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