He shook hands coldly with Aldous, who asked after his health with the kindly brevity natural to the man who wants no effusions for himself in public or personal matters, and concludes therefore that other people desire none.
"You _are_ better, papa ?" said Marcella, taking his hand.
"Certainly, my dear--better for morphia.

Don't talk of me.

I have got my death warrant, but I hope I can take it quietly.

Evelyn, I _specially_ asked to have that thin cushion brought down from my dressing-room.

It is strange that no one pays any attention to my wants." Mrs.Boyce, almost as white, Marcella now saw, as her husband, moved forward from the fire, where she had been speaking to Hallin, took a cushion from a chair near, exactly similar to the one he missed, and changed his position a little.
"It is just the feather's weight of change that makes the difference, isn't it ?" said Wharton, softly, sitting down beside the invalid.
Mr.Boyce turned a mollified countenance upon the speaker, and being now free from pain, gave himself up to the amusement of hearing his guest talk.