“I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said. “Before you do anything else I should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the grate. 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. He stopped in mid-sentence, and Ann Veronica opened the door for her aunt. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves.
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