The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. "You have behaved like a man of honour, Sir Rowland," said Wild, after he had twice told over the money. “Lucy, are you feeling all right?” He asked concernedly. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. "To be plain, then," said Winifred, "he has asked me whether I have any objection to you as a mother. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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