She was asked to meet him after his game Saturday afternoon. "I ought to tell you that Mr. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. ” John greeted him. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. She drank it obediently. “No, the only person I told before tonight was my mother and father. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers.
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