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All the turnkeys were assembled. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. It was neither good nor bad. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. “We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr. "Where did you learn the song I heard just now?" he demanded, in an authoritative tone. A vast indifference settled down upon him. “So Lucy, I hear that you are quite the violin player. But in a moment she believed she understood. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. I love you all the more for the streak of sheer devil in you. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. Mr.

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