Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. “Maternity,” she said, “has been our undoing. "Are you not that man's mistress?" demanded Mrs. Irregularly, in a quite inglorious and unromantic way, you know, I am a vicious man. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. If I surprised her, if I saw her alone, I might make her understand.
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