She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. “Yes?” he said. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. . “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation.
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