"Anthony—oh, Anthony, I have come back—to you."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE PROCESSION OF PRETTY LADIES
For days the procession of pretty ladies kept Justin company. Then they floated away on the rolling mists, and he found real faces bending over him,—the nurse's with its fresh comeliness, and Anthony's with a light on it which transfigured it.
One morning when he waked a white rose lay on his pillow.
"Did you put it there, nurse?"
"No. Miss Dolce came."
On Anthony's next visit Justin asked: "Why didn't you let me see her?"