"I'll tell you why," he said. ’ Taking the chair she had indicated with a careless wave of one stiff-fingered hand, Gerald felt hope burgeoning. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. Jonathan had to feel his way. Then she went below. I shall quit this roof to-morrow. I think too much about myself. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. “Really?” “Would not let it go.
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