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" "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. “I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon. And what took you to Remenham House?’ ‘I shall come to that presently,’ said Gerald cautiously. I am not going to be a chorus girl, or even a super. I didn’t get it, why she put on the innocent act. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. ‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants. CHAPTER III.
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