An ordinary type, of course—” Mrs. On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. ” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. "Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. But the whole set of some three or four shelves were of wood. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture.
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