Sink or Swim? , Volume II

In a small drawing-room on the first floor of a house in Stanwick-street, two persons were, one cold morning towards the end of April, seated at a late and very metropolitan-looking breakfast. Of those two persons Colonel Frederick Norcott was one. His outward man, as regarded dress at least, had not improved since last we saw him, some eight months ago, _flânéing_ in the grounds of Danescourt. A short and somewhat nondescript garment, one which might once have done duty as a shooting-jacket, but which had degenerated into a coat of many uses (namely, one that its owner was in the habit of dressing, smoking, and, as in the present instance, breakfasting in) was greasy and out at elbows. The Colonel's throat, a scraggy one, as is customary with middle-aged gentlemen who "keep their figures," was exposed, by reason of an open shirt-collar, to view, and as he discontentedly munched, with his still strong teeth, the untempting lodging-house fare provided for him, the expression of the Colonel's countenance was not precisely what could be called a bright and a "shining morning face" on that warm April day.

The "colonial lady," seated opposite to her lord, and watching the changes of his countenance in hopes to discover therein some sign or token by which to regulate her remarks, was, as I before hinted, a lady of faded and "washed out" appearance (_entre les deux âges_), willing still, as was only natural, to be admired, but swamping all such womanly aspirations in her deep devotion for, and her overweening appreciation of, the man who had honoured her with his empty pockets and his once-respected name.