" "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. ” He held his breath as she reached over the stick shift and touched his face. Ramage,” she said, “please don’t talk like this. My Mom and Dad were always 184 at work. Fast asleep, he is. But I am here. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. ” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house. Earles, but it is a good one.
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