Ah, no, I have it wrong. No matter. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. " "You flatter me," smiled Sir James. ‘Go and fetch her home,’ he said; ‘it isn’t what we thought! It’s just a practical joke of hers. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. That—that isn’t living! You are beside yourself. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say.
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