“Turn me. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. “Quite on my own,” she said. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. All human food tasted equally dead and loathsome to her, whether it was prime steak or cheap hamburger. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. CHAPTER XXI. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. ‘R-rien.
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