But look now: let it be something rather sensational.

Couldn't we invent a good title--something to catch eye and ear?
The title would suggest the story, you know.' Reardon laughed contemptuously, but the scorn was directed rather against himself than Milvain.
'Let's try,' he muttered.
Both appeared to exercise their minds on the problem for a few minutes.
Then Jasper slapped his knee.
'How would this do: "The Weird Sisters"?
Devilish good, eh?
Suggests all sorts of things, both to the vulgar and the educated.

Nothing brutally clap-trap about it, you know.' 'But--what does it suggest to you ?' 'Oh, witch-like, mysterious girls or women.

Think it over.' There was another long silence.

Reardon's face was that of a man in blank misery.
'I have been trying,' he said at length, after an attempt to speak which was checked by a huskiness in his throat, 'to explain to myself how this state of things has come about.