“There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. And I don't want anything of yours destroyed, Hoddy. And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. I want to put myself into your hands. The river, the big buildings on the north bank, Westminster, and St. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. Oh, you must believe me. “Not a bit of it.
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