"Perhaps I can read the paper to you?" she suggested.
"No; I don't care to listen. I am tired."
"Would you like to retire?"
"Not yet. I cannot sleep."
"Have you any medicine to put you to sleep, sir? I must ask the doctor all particulars to-morrow."
"He has given me some powders, but they do not help me. At times my brain seems to be on fire while my heart is icy cold."
"Let me shake your pillows for you." She did so, and tried to make him otherwise comfortable.
"Thank you, that is better," he remarked, as he sank back and closed his eyes. "It is hard to be alone in the world."
"You are alone then."
"Almost. Mr. Bulson, who was just here, is my nephew. My wife is dead, my son gone, and my niece, who lived with me up to a few months ago, has left me."