H. de Vere Stacpoole and Margaret Stacpoole

“ The bouquet was not extraordinarily large, but it seemed to grow larger and to fill the omnibus.
Madame explained. Cerise, arranging the flowers, joined in. They waxed enthusiastic. Never had Mudd been so chattered to before. He saw the whole business and guessed how the land lay now. He felt deeply relieved. Madame inspired him with instinctive confidence; Cerise in her youth and innocence repelled any idea of marriage between herself and Simon; but they'd got to be warned, somehow, that Simon was off the spot. ”

“ Mudd's dreaded imaginary mistress had always figured in his mind's eyes as a stout lady—eminently a lady—who would interfere with his ideas of how the brasses ought to be polished, interfere with tradesmen, order Mudd about, and make herself generally a nuisance; this new imaginary horror was a “painted slut,” who would bring ridicule and disgrace on Simon and all belonging to him.
Mudd had the fine feelings of an old maid on matters like this, backed by a fine knowledge of what elderly men are capable of in the way of folly with women. ”

“ Do not be alarmed, Monsieur Mod, the bon dieu will surely protect an innocent so charming, so good. So much goodness may walk alone, even among tigers, even among lions, and it will come to no 'arm. We will see that he returns to the Sharing Cross 'Otel. I will talk to 'im.”
Mudd departed, relieved, so great is the power of goodness, even though it shines in the persons of an impoverished old French lady and a girl whose innocence is her only strength. ”