Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. His hand went to his pocket and extracted a neat silver-mounted pistol. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. The girl is in it as deeply as he is. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. “You are coming in, aren’t you, Sydney?” “If I may,” he answered. ’ ‘I do not think so,’ Melusine agreed, still puzzled. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly.
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