“To the best of my belief,” she said, with quiet dignity, “I have never seen either of you before in my life. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Accounted extremely pretty in her youth, her features and person expanded as she grew older, without much detriment to their original comeliness. His skill has not been tried. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation.
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