The frank honest face, to tell the truth, at this moment bore any expression but one of openness and honesty: it was, on the contrary, much perturbed and puzzled in look. Jos was surveying the queer little apartment in which he found his old flame. One of her gowns hung over the bed, another depending from a hook of the door; her bonnet obscured half the looking-glass, on which, too, lay the prettiest little pair of bronze boots; a French novel was on the table by the bedside, with a candle, not of wax. Becky thought of popping that into the bed too, but she only put in the little paper night-cap with which she had put the candle out on going to sleep.
"I should have known you anywhere," she continued; "a woman never forgets some things. And you were the first man I ever--I ever saw."
"Was I really?" said Jos. "God bless my soul, you--you don't say so."

The frank honest face, to tell the truth, at this moment bore any expression but one of openness and honesty: it was, on the contrary, much perturbed. Jos was surveying the queer little apartment in which he found his old flame. One of her gowns hung over the bed, with another on the hook of the door; her bonnet obscured half the looking-glass, on which lay the prettiest little pair of bronze boots; a French novel was on the bedside table.
"I should have known you anywhere," she continued; "a woman never forgets some things. And you were the first man I ever - I ever saw."
"Was I really?" said Jos. "God bless my soul, you don't say so."
