doesn't say anything, I can see that he is listening.
Does it make you tired, Jim?"

"Oh, no. No, no, Gabrielle--not at all!" Jim managed to spruce up
enough to deny the intimation.

"Then please continue," urged Gabrielle.

Hygeia was delighted to find her entertainment so successful, and
proceeded, not noting, of course, the inward groans which spread
through the quaking man in the bed. Jim could see that unless a
great stroke of luck turned up there would be another fire, and he
would take a fall that would probably kill him next time.

It is dangerous to leave waste paper like those letters lying around
close to such highly inflammable material.

Poor Hygeia! She played with the fire like a child. What did she
know about the rules of the Board of Underwriters! Neither had she
ever heard of the Bureau of Combustibles!

It's a mighty lucky thing for my nerves that I was dreaming an
easier plot.

If Jim had been able to reach over the back of his bed and slit me
with a cleaver into rosette ribbons, one-quarter inch wide, I
believe he would have done it and been proud of the job.

Hygeia continuing, with Gabrielle expectant and Jim well muffled,
must have presented a picture I would give anything to have
preserved in oil paint.

"'How dearly I cherish the lock of hair I stole from you the evening
we parted! You are not angry with me, are you, Margaret?'" read
Hygeia.

"'Her hair is like the curling mist
That climbs the mountain sides at e'en,
When flow'r-reviving rains are past.

"'Really I do not wonder at the volumes of poetry that have been
written on the beautiful tresses of the fair enshrined in lovers'
hearts. Sweet dreams hover near this soft remembrance and I only
regret that I did not snip off enough to have a jeweler braid it for
my watch-charm locket. Enclosed please find some of mine in return.'"

"Here it is," exclaimed Hygeia, and she produced the small
allotment of Jim's, tied with a cotton thread in the middle.
Fortunately the original quantity had dwindled in fondling or
transit, so that with an exhibit of only eighteen strands, as per
my inventory, there was not enough to bulk and show the same depth
of shade as the original on the neighboring pillow. Gabrielle took
the fragmentary token and held it up, playfully remarking:

"Why, the dear fellow was a blond; almost your color, Jim, I should
imagine; perhaps a little lighter. He probably had eyes l