” He looked at her thoughtfully. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. I suppose it depends on her own state of mind. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. The Idle Apprentice. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word.
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