SHE sat by her open window, breakfasting languidly, when she discovered that he was just below her. His long chair had been placed in the sunshine of the upper terrace beneath the window, though she did not know this until she heard his sister giving him a morning greeting there.
"You don't think you were indiscreet to venture out into the night air, Charles?" Miss Orbison said; and a scraping upon the gravel indicated that she dragged one of the iron chairs with her, and came to sit beside him. "You don't look the worse, I'm sure."
"No. What difference would it make if I did?" he returned, with a short laugh. "When one's certain to be worse before long in any event, what difference is it if one's worse a day or two sooner?"
Miss Orbison protested gently. "Ah, don't say that, Charles!"
"No. Perhaps it's just as well unsaid. It's better to leave the most of what we know about some things
