must  all times. these fancies of yours—

    Fancies? God s t truth!

    Fancies, Mrs Rivers. If you migerrible plots? Laugolen fortunes and girls made out to be mad? tuff of lurid fiction! e  a ic one. You o overindulge yourself in literature; and have inflamed your organs of fancy.

    Inflamed? I said. Over-indulge? Literature?

    You oo much.

    I looked at  speak.

    God  last, as urned aing—give me a pencil, and Ill put you

    dos as muco put, t me dory it for a year!

    o o t o keep me from folloer. o tors backs! Dont pull from me! I so be put back in tie?

    But Dr Cie urned at t me in a ne of way,   Dr Graves. ly,

    It ent of to startle  of it.  do you say? Yes, give me a page from your note-book. Nurse Spiller, let Mrs Rivers go. Mrs Rivers— o me and gave me ttle piece of paper t Dr Graves orn from  o  and broug a pencil, and made to give me t.

    atc. Shis one!

    Very good, I see  I do not think she means us any harm. Do you, Mrs Rivers?

    No, sir, I said. I took t trembled. ched me.

    You may  better t, I think, he said.

    I moved it in my fingers, and it fell. I picked it up. atcco make anot me.

    I am not used to holding pencils, I said.

    Dr Cie nodded. I te me a line upon this paper.

    I cant, I said.

    Of course you can. Sit neatly on t t is  to e, is it not? You kno is. Noe me your name. You can do t, at least. You old us so. Go on.

    I ated, te it. tore beneathe lead. Dr