Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. "It is droll," he said. "He is gone!" cried Mrs. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. ‘It was your son who left the place empty then?’ he asked. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes.
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