“Pneumonia? Dear me! At his age, people rarely live through it--however, he’s very strong, of course. Difference!” he exclaimed, softly. “Yes--a great difference. It--it will make a great gap in the family, Emma. We’re all so fond of him, and I’m deeply attached to him, for my part. As for my poor father, he will be quite overcome. I hope he has not been told yet.” “No--I thought I’d wait and see you first.” “Quite right, my dear--quite right--very wise. In the meantime, I think we should be going. Yes--it’s just as well that you didn’t take off your hat.” He rose as he spoke, and touched one of the row of electric buttons on his desk. A man in the livery of the Company appeared at the door, just as Alexander was taking up his overcoat. “I’m going up town a little earlier than usual, Donald,” he said. “Inform Mr. Arbuckle. If anything unusual should occur, send to Mr. Harrison Beman.” “Yes, sir.” “That’s all, Donald.” The man faced about and left the office, having stood still for several seconds, staring at Alexander. Donald had been twenty years in the Company’s service, and did not remember that Mr. Lauderdale had ever left the office before hours in all the ten years since he had been chief, nor in the preceding ten during which he had occupied more or less subordinate positions. Mrs. Lauderdale daintily pulled down her veil and pulled up her gloves, shook out her frock a little and looked at the points of her shoes, then straightened her tall figure and stood ready. Alexander had slipped on his coat, and was smoothing his hat with a silk handkerchief which he always carried about him for that purpose. He had discovered that it made the hat last longer. Both he and his wife had unconsciously assumed that indescribable air which people put on when they are about to go to church. “We’ll take the Third Avenue Elevated,” said Mr. Lauderdale. “It’s shorter for us.” Robert Lauderdale’s house was close to the Park. The pair went out together into Broad Street, and the people stared at them as they threaded their way through the crowd. They were a handsome and striking couple, well contrasted, the dark man, just turning grey, and the fair woman, still as fair as ever. It might even be said that there was something imposing in their appearance. They had that look of unaffectedly conscious superiority which those who most dislike it most strenuously endeavour to imitate. Moreover, when a lady, of even passably good looks, appears down town between eleven and twelve o’clock in the morning, she is certain to be stared at. Very soon, however, the Lauderdales had left the busiest part of the multitude behind them. They walked quickly, with a preoccupied manner, exchanging a few words from time to time. Lauderdale was gradually recovering from his first surprise. “Did Routh say that there was no hope?” he asked, as they paused at a crossing.