‘Poor things. " "Aw light!" The two old friends held each other off at arms' length for inspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod and pummel one another affectionately. Is there anything you want?" She laid her hand on his forehead, and found it without fever. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night.
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