It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. . Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. "I need not remind you, Sir Rowland," replied Wild, "that you had two sisters— Aliva and Constance. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. ” His eyes were closed.
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