Page:A Child of the Jago - Arthur Morrison.djvu/402

 were twittering. Another door: in a shed.

This was the place. All white, everywhere—frame too; not black, after all. Up the steps. . . . Hold tight: not much longer. Stand there? Very well.

"Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower: he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.

"In the midst of life . . . . ."