“The smallest will do for me quite well. " She paused. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. I had a vague sort of idea that this was the region where one finds apartments, so I told my cabman to drive in this direction while I sat inside his vehicle and endeavoured to form a plan of campaign. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. You can if you will. “I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. “Only it is much too late for you to be out alone. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart.
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