Ennison slightly——” There was a dead silence in the little room. The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly. ’ ‘In a somewhat roundabout fashion, if you ask me,’ came in a mutter from her old nurse, very much in her usual style. “Rather darker than most of them. . “I’ve plenty of pals,” he said, “who, when they’ve been doing Paris on the Q. “You are late,” she murmured. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. The aunt laughed.
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