" "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. By that time it seemed to them they had lived together twenty years. Speak lower. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. We had better have it over. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. ” “You came—here!” he repeated, vaguely.
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