"Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton. Blank it was, except for a gate near the bridgehead. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. ‘And I do understand. " Immediately he stepped back. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. 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. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. It was the size of my palm.
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