“Yes, of course,” agreed Mrs. Merwent. Then, to John, “He’s _so_ much like you, John. Oh, John, won’t it be awful if Lucy----” She stopped, looking unspeakable things. “A morbid atmosphere reacts so on a child,” she explained. “Uncle Jim says I’m like Mamma,” observed Dimmie, taking another bite of bread and butter. “Of course _he_ would say so.” Nannie nodded and raised her brows significantly. John glowered out the window a moment, then came back to his place at the table in silence. When dinner was over, Dimmie followed John and Nannie into the living room. “Go upstairs to bed as I told you,” reiterated John to the child. “But I want to stay,” Dimmie parleyed. “Do as I say,” commanded his father. The little boy left the room, his chin quivering and the tears in his eyes about to fall. Mrs. Merwent ran after him. “Here, kiss Nannie,” she whispered. “I’m going to get you some more candy when I go down town in the morning.” Dimmie, after allowing himself to be kissed, ascended the stairs reluctantly. Nannie went back to John, sighing as she seated herself near him. “Oh, John,” she sighed regretfully, “there are so few hours left!” He smoked in moody silence. “John.” She laid a hand on his knee. “Yes?” He turned his head away and tried vainly to control his shaking voice. “You _will_ think of me, John?” “My God, Nannie, don’t talk rot!” He tossed his cigarette into the empty fireplace. “And, John--I’m afraid Lucy wouldn’t understand it--but we might--might write to each other now and then.” She spoke softly. Her hand continued to rest on his knee, but her face was averted. John did not reply at once and she added, “I might send the letters to the office.” Then, after a moment’s hesitation, “If it wasn’t for Mr. Sprague.” “Damn Mr. Sprague!” John rose and ran his fingers through his hair. “I could arrange that, Nannie. People are so confoundedly evil minded! But you could write to a box number.” “Oh, John, can you bear it without me? My thoughts will be with you all the time, John.” Nannie rose too, and they confronted one another. “Yes, Nannie, I suppose I can bear it,” he answered at last. He placed one hand over his eyes. “I wish there wasn’t so confounded much light!” he supplemented with agitated irrelevance. Nannie’s response was to go to the switch and press the button. The only light which now remained in the living room was the faint glow that came through the dining room transom. The summer rain beat against the window panes. “Sit here, John,” Nannie suggested softly, and the two seated themselves on the sofa. They remained silent for a long time. Katy, on her way to bed, knocked on the door discreetly. Mrs. Merwent made a little exclamation. “What do you care what Katy thinks? She’s not the first person who has seen evil in innocent things,” growled John, at the same time rising.