Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. " "Only two minutes more, Sir," intreated Edgeworth Bess, advancing towards him in such a manner as to screen Jack, who crept into the farthest part of the angle,—"only two minutes, and we've done. It’s the sort of way a woman always does gloss over her ethical positions. Down in my part of the world it's all a man has to go by. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. He could scarcely blame her. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. E. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window.
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