Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. CHAPTER III. " "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. I—I don’t understand,” the man faltered wearily. It was now evident that he had not been normal that first day. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. Plainly.
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