Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. Luck. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones.
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