"Well, my dear, I've a proposal to make in regard to this babby of yours, which may, or may not, be agreeable. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. Spurling, (for she it was,) either by her attractions of purse or person, had succeeded in moving the stony heart of Mr. ” She laughed. “Why not?” He asked. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. Suddenly she had become afraid. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle.
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