\"Word gets round. " "What do you want me to do?" The doctor thought this query gave hopeful promise. Anna, quitting her chair, dropped on her knees by her sister’s side and took her hand. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. A lovely, fetching girl. Did he not look for her in the morning when she entered—come very quickly to her? She thought of him as she had last seen him looking down the length of the laboratory to see her go.
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