’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. ” The note of his own voice exasperated him. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively.
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