’ ‘Of course I am, imbecile,’ she snapped, unconsciously echoing her greatniece. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. III. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. “John, did those roses cost a fortune?” “Like I’m going to tell you!” “Oh, John, they were so pretty, but they must have cost an arm and a leg, and you should be saving for college. She fell into another slumber, one which was more like a blackout.