. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Gosse had to release his clamp on her mouth, for the awkwardness of the position made it impossible to negotiate the little stair. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain.
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