‘Talk to me another time. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. She put her mouth on him. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his. " "Mr. . Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. “I know.
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