him if the full payment at all embarrassed him. Indeed,
she had never had a more quiet and decent
lodger, and she hoped it didn't mean he was "goin'
away," and, if she was rather sharp with him the night
before, it was because she had been "that nervous of
late."

But Felix, ignoring her overtures, only shook his head
in a good-natured way. He would begin packing at
once, and the express wagon would be here at six.
She would know it by the white horse which the man
was driving. When his trunks were finished he would
put them outside his bedroom door, and please not
to forget his mackintosh and leather hat-case which
he would leave inside the room.

So the packing began. First the sole-leather trunk,
from which he had taken the hapless dressing-case
the night before, was pulled out and the heavy black
tin box hauled into position and unlocked. With the
raising of the scarred and dented top a mass of letters
and papers came into view, filling the box to the brim--
some tied with red tape, others in big envelopes. In
a corner lay some photographs--one in a gilt frame,
the edge showing clear of the tissue-paper in which
it was wrapped. This he took out and studied
long and earnestly, his lips tightly pressed together.
Retying the paper, he tucked them all back into place,
turned the key, shook the box to see that the lock held
tight, picked it up with one hand by its side handle,