d in view.

A racking cough was one of the peculiarities of my friend, and
determined to assume the character in toto, I allowed myself to startle
the silence now and then with a series of gasps and chokings that
whether agreeable or not, certainly were of a character to show that I
had no desire to conceal my presence from those I had come among. Indeed
it was my desire to acquaint them as fully and as soon as possible with
the fact of their having a neighbor: a weak-eyed half-alive innocent
to be sure, but yet a neighbor who would keep his door open night and
day--for the warmth of the hall of course--and who with the fretful
habit of an old man who had once been a gentleman and a beau, went
rambling about through the hall speaking to those he met and expecting
a civil word in return. When he was not rambling or coughing he made
architectural monsters out of cardboard, wherewith to tempt the pennies
out of the pockets of unwary children, an employment that kept him
chained to a small table in the centre of his room directly opposite the
open door.

As I expected I had scarcely given way to three separate fits of
coughing, when the door next me opened with a jerk and a rough voice
called out,

"Who's that making all that to do about here? If you don't stop that
infernal noise in a hurry--"

A soft voice interrupted him and he drew back. "I will go see," said
those gentle tones, and Luttra Blake, for I knew it was she before the
skirt of her robe had advanced beyond the door, stepped out into the
hall.

I was yet bent over my work when she paused before me. The fact is I did
not dare look up, the moment was one of such importance to me.

"You have a dreadful cough," said she with that low ring of sympathy in
her voice that goes unconsciously to the heart. "Is there no help for
it?"

I pushed back my work, drew my hand over my eyes, (I did not need to
make it tremble) and glanced up. "No," said I with a shake of my head,
"but it is not always so bad. I beg your pardon, miss, if it disturbs
you."

She threw back the shawl which she had held drawn tightly over her head,
and advanced with an easy gliding step close to my side. "You do not
disturb me, but my father is--is, well a trifle cross sometimes, and if
he should speak up a little harsh now and then, you must not mind. I am
sorry you are so ill."

What is there in some women's look, some women's touch that more than
all beauty goes to the heart and subdue