Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. 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. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. "Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. And there's your liver. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. "If I thought he lived——" observed Wood.
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