So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. 6. ” He said. She felt much better. My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. ‘She may well try to go back.
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