” “Thank you,” Anna answered. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. But she veiled her feelings. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. The simile started a laugh in his throat. E. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue.
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