” “Just as you wish,” Mr. "What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. ” “The man?” 228 “Yes. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. But God did not put you next door. I won’t try. “I might go home, I don’t know. Are you sure you haven't mistaken the ward, Mr. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night.
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