" "Deferred!" echoed Sheppard. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. He woke up with a start and the alarm clock read 4:46 P. “I have been very selfish,” she declared. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. What was the fellow about? Was he being imposed upon? He watched as the man Valade turned back, spreading his hands in the French way.
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