I forced a laugh as I lit my cigarette.
"You mustn't get fanciful," I declared.

"Men die every day, you know, and I fancy that this one was on his last legs.

Good-night." Her lips parted as though in an answering greeting, but it was inaudible.

As I looked round at the top of the street I saw her still standing there in the little flood of yellow light, gazing across towards the old market-hall..