Grace Slade and Horace Anzley

Mrs. Slade and Mrs. Anzley had lived opposite each other, actually as well as figuratively for years. When the drawing room curtains in number twenty, E. seventy-third street were renewed she was always aware of it. A few years later, and not many months apart, both ladies lost their husbands. And now, after another interval, they had run across each other in Rome, at the same hotel. Each of them, the modest appendage of a salient daughter. The similarity of their lie had again drawn them together, lending itself to mild jokes. It did the irreproachable no harm to laugh at them a little. In old days, it must have