“I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. I was forced to lay on a bed of nails for three days. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. See paragraph 1.
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