" "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. It was a hoax, it was the only thing possible, until she heard Cathy say, “Let me hold those for you. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. Wood fancied he recognised. One was in the Indian Civil Service and one in the rapidly developing motor business. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem.
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