But for him——” Something in her sister’s tone startled Anna. "But you are tired!" "I want to go over the story again. " "I'm no reader of riddles," said Jonathan. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. Our land brings us in nothing. But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle.
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