The time was getting on now, and it was surely not unreasonable to look for some tidings of him.
To-day Morgan and I both finished our third and last stories.

I corrected my brother's contribution with no very great difficulty on this occasion, and numbered it Nine.

My own story came next, and was thus accidentally distinguished as the last of the series--Number Ten.
When I dropped the two corresponding cards into the bowl, the thought that there would be now no more to add seemed to quicken my prevailing sense of anxiety on the subject of George's return.

A heavy depression hung upon my spirits, and I went out desperately in the rain to shake my mind free of oppressing influences by dint of hard bodily exercise.
The number drawn this evening was Three.

On the production of the corresponding manuscript it proved to be my turn to read again.
"I can promise you a little variety to-night," I said, addressing our fair guest, "if I can promise nothing else.