sent a most  t of dreadful cold feeling in my guts. I y miles an ead of taking to topped outside t.

    So I’m fond of er all, you say! I don’t knoly , but you can’t imagine yourself  it. It’s part of you. ell, t’s  about  stick t of  t t s be dead or even in pain sent through me.

    I fumbled  tos me.

    ‘hilda!’ I yelled. ‘hilda!’

    No ans I ter silence, and some cold s started out on my backbone. Maybe ted o al already—maybe tairs in ty house.

    I started to dasairs, but at t t of t e t  beginning to fail. Lorna ers.

    ‘Oo, Daddy! Oo, it’s Daddy! oday? Mummy said you  coming till Friday.’

    ‘her?’ I said.

    ‘Mummy’s out. S out oday, Daddy?’

    ‘t been ill?’

    ‘No. ho said she’d been ill? Daddy! have you been in Birmingham?’

    ‘Yes. Get back to bed, noching cold.’

    ‘But ws, Daddy?’

    ‘ presents?’

    ‘ts you’ve bought us from Birmingham.’

    ‘You’ll see the morning,’ I said.

    ‘Oo, Daddy! Can’t onight?’

    ‘No. Dry up. Get back to bed or I’ll he pair of you.’

    So s ill after all. So be glad or sorry. I turned back to t door, h.

    I looked at o of t. It o t less tes earlier I’d been in teual cold s on my backbone, at t t s be dead. ell, s dead, s as usual. Old oss t you invariably come back to, ternal verities as old Porteous calls t  in too good a temper. Sed me a little quick look, like simes tle tance, mig seem surprised to see me back, however.

    ‘Oh, so you’re back already, are