The doctor had not heard from his people. . Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. ” “Oh, I might,” he answered, “have gone further still. After all, you failed in obtaining the secret from her, Sir Rowland. ” “No, mine. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. . But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily.
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