Myra Gray; Or Sown in Tears, Reaped in Joy - A Novel #260839

We must go back a few days — a week or two, perhaps. Not, indeed, into some indefinite space which has been left behind, and which the reader has already had time to forget, but simply to that period when Gilbert Ferrers was in the eyes of the world, if not in the eyes of his wife, an honest man. There had been whispers, it is true; but there always will be whispers when Parvenu has pictures, and carriages, and the best still champagne; when he is indifferent to his wife and his home, and prefers truffles and petits soupers to the domestic veal, however well served.