“My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me. I never met your sister in Paris, but I heard about her more than once. Do not be a fool, Jacques. " As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price.
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