" That was true, thought Spurlock. At sunset the swarming abruptly ceased; even the sampans appeared to draw closer together, with the quiet of water-fowl. And a time will come, Veronica, mark my words, a time will come when you will bless me for my firmness to-night. "Did you write it?" "No. " Half an hour later she laid aside the book. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. “Lucy, that is so sad.
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