It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. What had happened to it? She had broken it, certainly. "Yes—what do you mean, Ma'am?" added Jack, staggering after her. ” Sydney looked at her doubtfully. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day.
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