” “You do not flatter me,” she laughed. I do forgive him; but he will never know now. “Remember that the man will probably die. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. I followed you home on the train. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. \"Those look heavy. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. .
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