The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. Their small talk continued. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw. She seemed honestly glad to see him. ” He shrugged his shoulders. I like high tone for a flourish and stars and ideas; but I want my things. " "There is a great art in it, if you did," quoth he.
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