Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. Mrs. She was in excellent spirits, and it was not until she had taken off her hat, and was considering the question of dinner or no dinner, that she remembered that another day had passed, and she was not a whit nearer being able to pay her tomorrow’s bill. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. “So very clear and cold,” she said.
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