The lady, Mrs. Denison, who had just come from a charitable gathering, and was still under the influence of her charitable mood, felt hurriedly in her purse for a silver-piece, which she instructed her servant to give the lame man as she ascended the broad steps and disappeared into the house.
"I am no beggar!" stammered the street-cleaner in broken English, waving off the proffered alms with a trembling hand.
Within the mansion Mr. Denison, in a faultless evening costume, turned the diamond sleeve-links in the cuffs he was adjusting as he awaited his wife.
Mrs. Denison laid aside her hat and cloak and hastened upstairs to greet him, beginning at once to give him a rather feverish account of the doings of the association of which she was president.
Presently another turn was given to the conversation by the entrance of a tall young man with light blue eyes and a rather inexpressive face.
"I am done with racing for the present!" he cried eagerly, holding out his hand.
"Thank heaven!" answered Mrs. Denison, fervently.
"Eh, for once, George," said Mr. Denison thoughtfully.
"And do you know why? My favorite won first place—only think how lucky!" The young man's excitement was perceptible in his panting breath.
"And how delighted Lucy will be! Here she comes now," said Mrs. Denison, turning to kiss the white forehead of her daughter as she entered the room.