cigarette in the carriage--one of his rare cigarettes. The night was windy and flew on black wings; the carriage lights had to search out the way. His father! That old, old man! A comfortless night--to die!
The London train came in just as he reached the station, and Madame Lamotte, substantial, dark-clothed, very yellow in the lamplight, came towards the exit with a dressing-bag.
'This all you have?' asked Soames.
'But yes; I had not the time. How is my little one?'
'Doing well--both. A girl!'
'A girl! What joy! I had a frightful crossing!'
Her black bulk, solid, unreduced by the frightful crossing, climbed into the brougham.
'And you, mon cher?'
'My father's dying,' said Soames between his teeth. 'I'm going up. Give my love to Annette.'
'Tiens!' murmured Madame Lamotte; 'quel malbeur!'
Soames took his hat off, and moved towards his train. 'The French!' he thought.
JAMES IS TOLD
A SIMPLE cold, caught in the room with double windows, where the air and the people who saw him were filtered, as it were, the room he had not left since the middle of September--and James was in deep waters. A little cold, passing his little strength and flying quickly to his lungs. 'He mustn't catch cold,' the doctor had declared, and he had gone and caught it. When he first felt it in his throat he had said to his nurse--for he had one now-- 'There, I knew how it would be, airing the room like that!' For a whole day he was highly nervous about himself and went in advance of all precautions and remedies; drawing every breath with extreme care and having his temperature taken every hour. Emily was not alarmed.
But next morning when she went in the nurse whispered: 'He won't have his temperature taken.'
Emily crossed to the side of the bed where he was lying, and