Much to her annoyance, therefore, Winifred was left alone with the woollendraper, who following up a maxim of his own, "that nothing was gained by too much bashfulness," determined to profit by the opportunity. She was shifting, moving back. 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. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. Her wedding gown! She wondered if the spirit of the unknown mother looked down upon her. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her.
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