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“But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me. ” Lucy said, thinking of the Becks who worked around the clock just to keep a tiny house in the same neighborhood. Meantime, a change had taken place in the weather. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. The lady reseated herself, watching him expectantly. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour.

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