" "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. You won't often see white folks. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. Only how had they missed him? Were they imbecile? Or perhaps the mists had concealed him from them. "Before you go, bring me the bottle of pineapple rum I opened yesterday. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. Never had he been so intrigued.
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