Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman.
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