” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. So long. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. I am not boring you, am I?” She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face. ’ Pierced to the heart by the poignancy of this utterance, Gerald could neither move nor speak. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled. “The other women don’t much like it if husband and wife work together, and I don’t think Hal would like me to act away from him.
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