Chapter 12 No.12

"We strive to read, as we may best,

This city, like an ancient palimpsest,

To bring to light upon the blotted page

The mournful record of an earlier age,

That, pale and half-effaced, lies hidden away

Beneath the fresher writings of to-day."

After spending a fortnight with the invalid, in which "the golden hours on angel's wings" s