Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. His analytical bent saved him many times, though he was not sensitive to this. If you are going that way, why not join us. \" He rose and departed. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair.
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