"Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. Home!— which I never hoped to see again. Only an undermaid I was then. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. He laid her on their old bed and kissed her from head to toe. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face.
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