“I was in Paris four years ago,” Mr. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. There were no mourners. But, perhaps Mr. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure. At times he was brilliant and masterful, talked round and over every one, and would have been domineering if he had not been extraordinarily kindly; at times he was almost monosyllabic, and defeated Miss Garvice’s most skilful attempts to draw him out.
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