When he was not rambling or
coughing he made architectural monsters out of cardboard, wherewith
to tempt the pennies out of the pockets of unwary children, an
employment that kept him chained to a small table in the centre of his
room directly opposite the open door.
As I expected I had scarcely given way to three separate fits of
coughing, when the door next me opened with a jerk and a rough voice
called out,
"Who's that making all that to do about here? If you don't stop that
infernal noise in a hurry--"
A soft voice interrupted him and he drew back. "I will go see," said
those gentle tones, and Luttra Blake, for I knew it was she before
the skirt of her robe had advanced beyond the door, stepped out into
the hall.
I was yet bent over my work when she paused before me. The fact is I
did not dare look up, the moment was one of such importance to me.
"You have a dreadful cough," said she with that low ring of sympathy
in her voice that goes unconsciously to the heart. "Is there no help
for it?"
I pushed back my work, drew my hand over my eyes, (I did not need to
make it tremble) and glanced up. "No," said I with a shake of my
head, "but it is not always so bad. I beg your pardon, miss, if it
disturbs you."
She threw back the shawl which she had held drawn tightly over her
head, and advanced with an easy gliding step close to my side.
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