She was dressed for the street very much as her own maid was accustomed to dress, and there was a thick veil attached to her hat. Though nearly dark, there was still light enough left to enable him to discern surrounding objects. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. He lowered his voice a little and leaned over towards her. Jackson noticed a fine service of old blue china in an open japan closet, Mr. Hollo rumbled in his throat. Something drew you.
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