Tears began to stream from her cheeks. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. Only a son’s another story. John has made me so happy, I’ve been losing myself in him. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. "Did you never see two gentlemen with only a couple of peepers between them before!" "Never, I'll be sworn!" said Smith, taking the opportunity of filling his glass while his comrade's back was turned; "we're a nat'ral cur'osity. Your life is like a funeral March. Clothes.
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