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were spread between theht

outside, a livid streak of dawn; the objects in the rooible shapes, the billiard-table in its white cloth beca mausoleum And with the dawn Tyson on

his sofa had dropped into a doze, and thence into a sleep The night's

orgy of emotion had left his features in a curiousht Stanistreet, "I'd give anything to kno much he really

cared"

Stanistreet still watched Mrs Wilcox found hi bent forward,

with his elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands He was

roused by her touch on his shoulder He started when he saw her standing

over hi gray

dressing-gown, her hair uncurled, red rims round her eyes and dark

streaks under theht had been

a rude shock to her optimism

Stanistreet never kne he became possessed of her plump hand, nor

what he did with it His eyes looked the question he was afraid to speak

"It's all right--all per--perfectly right," stammered the optiot a son"