" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up. I'll tote it myself. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. The whole was then fired, and in a few minutes the room was a blaze. Here again instinct guided her. I fight. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. . The water was cold but she waded deeper.
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