Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. " "What did I say?" "Only one word," she said, offering her first white lie. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. But he would die if he continued in this course. ” “How?” He asked. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. I have been thinking these things over lately, and it seems to me that marriage for a girl is just the supremest thing in life.
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