You're much better than you were--even Mr.Bunce says so!" "Even Mr.Bunce!" And he took her hand in his own and studied its smooth whiteness and beautiful shape attentively--anon he patted it tenderly.
"You have a pretty hand, Mary! It's a rare beauty!" "Is it ?" And she looked at her rosy palm meditatively.

"I've never thought much about it--but I've noticed that Angus and you both have nice hands." "Especially Angus!" said Helmsley, with a smile.
Her face reflected the smile.
"Yes.

Especially Angus!" After this little conversation Helmsley was very quiet and thoughtful.
Often indeed he sat with eyes closed, pretending to sleep, in order inwardly to meditate on the plans he had most at heart.

He saw no reason to alter them,--though the idea presented itself once or twice as to whether he should not reveal his actual identity to the clergyman who visited him so often, and who was, apart from his sacred calling, not only a thinking, feeling, humane creature, but a very perfect gentleman.
But on due reflection he saw that this might possibly lead to awkward complications, so he still resolved to pursue the safer policy of silence.
One evening, when Angus Reay had come in as usual to sit awhile and chat with him before he went to bed, he could hardly control a slight nervous start when Reay observed casually-- "By the way, David, that old millionaire I told you about, Helmsley, isn't dead after all!" "Oh--isn't he ?" And Helmsley feigned to be affected with a troublesome cough which necessitated his looking away for a minute.

"Has he turned up ?" "Yes--he's turned up.