Were not the story one of to-day and of every day, the moral turpitude it displays would arouse the hearer to generous indignation.
Taking at random one of the multitude of illustrations crowding upon my mind, let me sketch a vexatious incident of personal history.

Some years ago--no matter how many, nor how long was my sojourn in the town which was the scene of the story--I accepted the invitation of an acquaintance to take a seat in her carriage while on my way to call upon a woman well known to us both.

The owner of the equipage, Mrs.
D----, overtook me while I was trudging up the long street leading to the suburb in which our common acquaintance lived.

The day was bleak and windy, and I was glad to be spared the walk.

Mrs.C----, to whom the visit was paid, came down to receive us with her hat and cloak on.
She was going down town presently, she said, and would not keep us waiting while she laid aside her wraps.