The very blank, however, affected him more deeply than if it had been left. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. “What would you like to hear? Some J. We close the chapter. Mrs.
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