The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. Recollect that. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. And, if I can render you any service, you may command me.
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