My name is Gilbert Aycon." "Aycon--Aycon! It is a little difficult to say it as you say it." Her thoughts claimed her again.

I threw my cigarette into the fire, and stood waiting her pleasure.

But she seemed to have no more to say, for she rose from the seat and held out her hand to me.
"Will you 'shake hands ?'" she said, the last two words in English; and she smiled again.
I hastened to do as she asked me, and she moved toward the door.
"Perhaps," she said, "I shall see you to-morrow morning." "I shall be here." Then I added: "I could not help hearing you talk of moving elsewhere." She stood still in the middle of the room; she opened her lips to speak, shut them again, and ended by saying nothing more than: "Yes, we talked of it.

My mother wishes it.

Good-night, Mr.Aycon." I bade her good-night, and she passed slowly through the door, which I closed behind her.