" Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. . "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. "We're too wide awake for that. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise.
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