t deal of attention in
sweeping back and forth through that thoroughfare, as in passing Lyon's
offices she gave her head that peculiarly ludicrous inclination that all
women affect when they are particularly anxious to be noticed, but also
particularly anxious to not have it noticed that they wish to be
noticed; and continued her promenade, each time brushing the windows of
Lyon's offices with her ample skirts, and growing more and more
indignant that nobody appeared to be interested in her exhibition, save
the lookers-on within the Arcade, who were increasing rapidly in
numbers.

This seemed to exasperate the woman beyond measure, and finally, after
casting a hurried glance or two through the half-open door, she
apparently nerved herself for the worst and made a plunge into the
office, while the crowd closed about the door.

Bristol had of course felt it his duty to inform Mr. Lyon of the fair
lady's intended demonstration, and the latter had judiciously found it
convenient to transact some important business in another part of the
city on that afternoon; but the elegant Harcout had bravely volunteered
to throw himself into the breach and bear the brunt of the battle--in
other words, sacrifice himself for his friend, and was consequently
sitting at Lyon's desk behind the railing, which formed a sort of a
private office at one side of the general office, as Mrs. Winslow, pale
with rage and humiliated to exasperation, came sweeping into the room.

"Ah, how d'ye do, ma'am?" said Harcout blandly, but never looking up
from his desk, at which he pretended to be very busily engaged. "Bless
my soul, you seem to be very much excited!"

"Sir!" said Mrs. Winslow, interrupting him violently, "I want none of
your 'madams' or 'bless my souls.' I want Lyon, you puppy!"

"Ah, exactly, exactly," replied Mr. Lyon's protector with the greatest
apparent placidity, though with a shade of nervousness in his voice;
"but you see, my dear, you can't have him!"

It was not the first time this man had called this woman "my dear," nor
was it the first time he had attempted to beat back her overpowering
passion. Had he known it as Mr. Harcout, or had she recognized him as
Mrs. Winslow, it would have made the interview more dramatic than it
was--perhaps a thread of tragedy might have crept in; as it was,
however, she only savagely retorted that she wouldn't have him, but she
would see him if he was in, whether or no.

"Well, my dear good wo