He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded. Heard voices. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Prison was beastly. The stench is everywhere. “You’re not a man for me—not one of a sex, I mean.
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