She would not care how grey might be her hair, or how savage might be Mr Alf, if her Felix were to marry this heiress.

On the other hand, nothing that pearl-powder or the 'Morning Breakfast Table' could do would avail anything, unless he could be extricated from the ruin that now surrounded him.

So she went down into the dining-room, that she might be sure to hear the key in the door, even should she sleep, and waited for him with a volume of French memoirs in her hand.
Unfortunate woman! she might have gone to bed and have been duly called about her usual time, for it was past eight and the full staring daylight shone into her room when Felix's cab brought him to the door.

The night had been very wretched to her.

She had slept, and the fire had sunk nearly to nothing and had refused to become again comfortable.