“Why?” he asked, suavely. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. Mr. I wonder if he really wants me to go home. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. Why had he glanced up—quite in that way?.
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