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” “Now look here, Ann Veronica,” said Mr. " "So do I!" she cried; "for then you would have been really my brother. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. ” There came a silence again. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. She turned up dead after about eight weeks and it broke my heart. “I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone. " CHAPTER XIX.
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