” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. Parbleu, but she was a fool. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. “I might have muddled for a time. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. "If so, it won't pay. He reached a silver cigar and cigarette box from the sideboard and put it before his father-in-law, and for a time the preliminaries of smoking occupied them both. What is the use of it? I do not wish to marry you. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. If he awoke and caught you at it, there might be a set-back. By-the-bye, have you seen this new woman at the ‘Empire’? What is it they call her—‘Alcide?’” “Yes, I have seen her,” Ennison answered. " "I'm sorry.
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