Wood," said she, in the deep, hoarse accents of consumption; "and may God Almighty bless and reward you for your kindness! You were always the best of masters to my poor husband; and now you've proved the best of friends to his widow and orphan boy. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. She knew that I cared for her, she had admitted that she cared for me. “Hold on, she’s right here.
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