You mark
my words, in two or three days he'll be just his old self."
"Has he come into a fortune, or what?" Maud demanded. "He's left you,
hasn't he?"
Mr. Waddington nodded.
"He's found a better job," he admitted. "Kind of queer in his health,
though. I've been taken a little like it myself, but those sort of
things pass off--they pass off."
Milly looked at him curiously. He was suddenly quiet.
"Why, you're looking just like Mr. Burton did a few minutes ago!" she
declared. "What's the matter with you? Can you see ghosts?" Mr.
Waddington sat quite still. "Yes," he muttered, "I see ghosts!"
They looked at him in a puzzled manner. Then Milly leaned towards him
and filled his glass with Wine. She touched his glass with her own, she
even suffered her arm to rest upon his shoulder. For a single moment
Mr. Waddington appeared to feel some instinct of aversion. He seemed
almost about to draw away. Then the mood passed. He drew her towards
him with a little burst of laughter, and raised his glass to his lips.
"Here's fun!" he exclaimed. "Poor old Burton!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE REAL ALFRED BURTON
Edith slipped out of her evening cloak and came into the foyer of the
Opera House, a spotless vision of white.
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