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"No; but I fancy her reason is." "How did you obtain it?" "True, doctor," remarked Jen, keeping his eyes fixed upon the swart face of the other, "and is that all you have to say?".
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The mansion, with its flat roof and wide verandas, had a tropical look, and indeed it had been built by a retired Indian nabob at the beginning of this century. When he died the house had been sold, and now it was occupied by Mrs. Dallas, who leased it because of its suggestion of tropical habitation. She came from the West Indies, and had lived in "The Wigwam," as the house was called, for over ten years. Patricia flung herself on her sister, overwhelming her in a flurry of pink kimono and white arms. "Tell me!" she cried. "Tell me this minute, you aggravating thing! You're getting to be a regular miser of your news—you won't give up till it's dragged out of you. Speak, or I'll have your life!" Patricia flung off the encircling arms, and was on her feet in an instant. "Him, Uncle Jen?".
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