In another moment-- But the Reverend Mr.Pyecroft, _alias_ Archibald Simpson, _alias_ Thomas Preston, _alias_ God knows what else, stepped quickly between her and the on-coming Mary, and with an air of brotherly concern held out an intercepting hand.
"No excitement, please.

The doctor's orders." "Is it anything serious ?" Mary asked anxiously.
"We hope not," in a grave voice.

"It is chiefly nervous exhaustion due to a period of worry over a trying domestic situation." "That's too bad!" Very genuine sympathy was in Mary's soft contralto.
"But if she's unwell, she ought to have more air.

Why don't you draw up that heavy veil ?" "S-s-h! Not so loud, I beg you.

If she heard you speak of her veil, it would pain her greatly.