The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. Prudence Remenham. “I might go home, I don’t know. ” “It is odd that this man at the hospital should call himself Meysey Hill,” she remarked. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. “Perhaps your engagements are made for you.
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