THE AMERICAN
very high with the porter, and asked him by what right he used violence to an honourable Anglaise who had lived in the house for thirty years before he was heard of. Oh sir, I was very grand—I brought the man down. He drew his bolts and let me out, and I promised the cabman something handsome if he would drive fast. But he was terribly slow; it seemed as if we should never reach your blest door. I'm all of a tremble still; it took me five minutes, just now, to thread my needle."
Newman told her, in munificent mirth, that if she chose she might have a little maid on purpose to thread her needles; and he went away nursing this sketch of the scene in the Rue de l'Université and rejoicing in the belief that he had produced there what he might call the impression of his life.
He had not shown Mrs. Tristram the document he carried in his pocket-book, but since his return to Paris he had seen her several times, and she had not disguised from him that he struck her as in a strange way—an even stranger way than his sad situation made natural. Had his disappointment gone to his head? He looked like a man who was spoiling for some sickness, yet she had never seen him more restless and active. Some days he would hang his head and fold his brow and set his teeth, appear to wish to give out that he should never smile again; on others he would indulge in laughter that was almost rude and make jokes that were bad even for him. If he was trying to carry off his humiliation he went at such times really too far. She begged him of all things not to be strange. Feeling in a measure answerable
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