He stood thus absorbed so long that Hilary rose at last, and glanced into the saucepan.

There was no cocoa in it.

Mr.Stone had only made enough for one.

He had meant it for his visitor, but self-forgetfulness had supervened.
"You know what happens to the aloe, sir, when it has flowered ?" asked Hilary with malice.
Mr.Stone moved, but did not answer.
"It dies," said Hilary.
"No," said Mr.Stone; "it is at peace." "When is self at peace, sir?
The individual is surely as immortal as the universal.

That is the eternal comedy of life." "What is ?" said Mr.Stone.
"The fight or game between the two." Mr.Stone stood a moment looking wistfully at his son-in-law.