” Drummond shook his head in melancholy fashion. . He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Still unconscious of anything he did physically. . . His arms released from his 68 sides, he lifted them around her in a light embrace. ‘Sapristi,’ he gasped. ’ ‘True enough,’ nodded Martha sadly. “He has said something of the sort. I don’t know. Not a word passed between them. We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous.
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