Her hair was yellower than her friend's, but it also owed some part of its beauty to artificial means.

In business hours she was attired in an exceedingly tight-fitting black dress, disfigured in many places by the accidents of her profession.
"You are a dear, Mr.Burton," she declared.

"I wonder what your wife would say, though ?" she added, a little coyly.
"Not seeing much of Ellen just lately," Burton replied.

"I'm living up in town alone." "Oh!" she remarked.

"Mr.Burton, I'm ashamed of you! What does that mean, I wonder?
You men!" she went on, with a sigh.