“Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. For a time they were very difficult. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. . “When are you going away?” He asked. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley.
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