Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. They had changed identities absolutely. And talking of every conceivable thing. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. The likeness was ridiculous. Mr. Sorrows and danger and disappointment she had known. He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. This happened after he ate. She was quite a beauty, all in white, and I can still see how much you resemble her. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. But we must not anticipate the course of events. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated.
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