" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ” “I wish you good luck,” she answered. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. She walked with an easy quickness down the Avenue and through the proletarian portion of Morningside Park, and crossing these fields came into a pretty overhung lane that led toward Caddington and the Downs. “I have made no arrangements as yet— none at all. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself. I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this.
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