The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. "I'll tell you a dream I had last night," continued the unfortunate being. " "The deuce he has!" cried Dump. The young man was mollified by her sympathy, and flattered by the obvious attempts of several of the other guests to draw him into conversation. \" Michelle said in a bitter voice. “Has he accused any one yet?” “Not yet,” he answered. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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