” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. “Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath.
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