“It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. Bullding is going to. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. She did not answer him, as she did not know what to say. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. We have that gift. I want to fill it with fine and precious things. He did not leave much of an 17 impression.
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