She says, come up as quickly as you can." "Is she in the office ?" "No, sir.

She just said that, and then went out in a hurry." "The plot thickens," said I, looking at Constance.
"Poor old lady!" There was a shade of pity in her tones.
"You have not seen her for many years ?" "No." "Poor old witch of Endor! were better said." "Oh!" answered my wife, smiling, "you know that the painter's idea of this celebrated individual has been reversed by some, who affirm that she was young and handsome instead of old and ugly like modern witches." "I don't know how that may be, but if you could see Mrs.Allen, you would say that 'hag' were a better term for her than woman.

If the good grow beautiful as they grow old, the loving spirit shining like a lamp through the wasted and failing walls of flesh, so do the evil grow ugly and repulsive.

Ah, Constance, the lesson is for all of us.

If we live true lives, our countenances will grow radiant from within, as we advance in years; if selfish, worldly, discontented lives, they will grow cold, hard, and repulsive." I drew on my boots and coat, and started on my visit to the Allen House.
The night was in perfect contrast with the previous one.