It is the immediate inspiration of confidence; it alleviates pain, because we know by that smile that pain is soon to leave us; it becomes the bulwark against our depressive thoughts of death; and it is the promise that we still have a long way to go before we reach the Great Terminal. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. "I must tell you," she was saying. Probably a sick man's whim. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it.
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