The curtains which she had left drawn were open, and the electric lights were turned on. Now, in her old place, she was doing her best thoroughly to enjoy a most indifferent dinner. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. "What did the old fellow judge from, eh, Joan?" asked he. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old. Sanguine they were not. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively.
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