’ The expression on Emile Gosse’s face was vicious under the smile. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them.
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