"My heart," rejoined Thames, firmly; "which now tells me I am in the presence of his murderer. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. ” “But why didn’t you prohibit once for all the whole thing? How dared she tell you that?” “Out of defiance. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. “I guess I’m not the only one who wonders about your past. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own. She would write to Gerald. “There is my aunt,” she said. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake.
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