‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Perhaps at the first blush—it strikes you as odd. Her concluding paragraph was, on the whole, perhaps, hardly starchy enough. " "Humph!" ejaculated the carpenter. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. “I’ll try to stop by.
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