Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. She thought of the smiles she would gather when she brought forth his first grandson. It was not for a week or a month. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. "'You've a long journey before you. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. . ” “Why do you think so?” she asked. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. ’ She dropped to her knees before her old nurse and hugged the workroughened hand with both her own, looking up into Martha’s face where slow tears were tracing down her cheek.
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