Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. Reconnoitring them through a small grated loophole, he refused to open the door till they had explained their business. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. " Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea.
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