‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. The carpenter threw himself flat upon the starling to avoid the fury of the wind. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. T.
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