Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. ’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning. They turned off at Glen Grove, a sleepy town of less than two hundred. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. Her fingers rested upon his.
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