It was before I was married, when Jaffery, during his London sojourn, had the spare bedroom in a set of rooms I rented in Tavistock Square.

At a florist's hard by, a young flower seller--a hussy if ever there was one--but bewitchingly pretty--carried on her poetical avocation; and of her did my hulking and then susceptible friend become ragingly enamoured.

I repeat, she was a hussy.

She had no intention of giving him more than the tip of her pretty little shoe to kiss; but Jaffery, reading the promise of secular paradise in her eyes, had no notion of her little hard intention.

He squandered himself upon her and she led him a dog's life.