" "My turn comes before yours, Sir," interposed his better half. Then for a time she sat very still. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you. And for me there is only one treasure-house. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. The popcorn dwindled to a half a bucket, his heart settled into its normal routine. Section 2.
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