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      "Already been done?" Dodd swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp and leaned toward her. Norma looked down at her own empty glass."No, Stephen," replied Margaret, in a low trembling voice.

      "You must not think, my dearest lad, that anything what you have done can separate you and me. We belong to each other as it seems, and what you have done I forgive as you would if I had done it. I shall always be yours, Robby, no matter how long you are in prison, I shall be waiting, and thinking of you always. And I forgive you for not telling me you had taken the money, but that a friend had lent it to you, because you thought I would not have gone away with you, but I would have, surely. Be brave and do not fret. I wish it was all over, but we must not fret.


      "Foul mouthed witch!" interrupted De Boteler, "keep thy tongue silentno morelest I anticipate justice by hanging you at your own threshold!"

      Chapter 5

      "Yes, dearie, I know, and it's unaccountable good of you and Naomi to let me come wud you. I d?an't think we should ought to mind helping your brother a bit here, when we've all that to look forrard to. But he's a strange lad, and your f?ather 'ud turn in his grave to see him."

      "Ever heard of your sister Caro?"It was a March twilight, cold and rustling, and tart with the scents of newly turned furrows. Reuben sat with Alice in the kitchen, and every now and then Jury's wretched house-place would shake as the young gale swept up rainless from the east and poured itself into cracks and chimneys. Alice was sewing as usualit struck Reuben that she was very quick and useful with her fingers, whatever might be her drawbacks in other ways. Sometimes she had offered to read poetry to him, and had once bored him horribly with In Memoriam, but as he had taken no trouble to hide his feelings she had to his great relief announced her intention of casting no more pearls before swine.



      "Not so, my lord," said Isabella, at the moment entering the hall, attracted by the loud tones of De Boteler's voice; "not so, my lord; the tumbrel is not for such as he, however rude his bearing. My Lord de Boteler," turning to the monk, "has doubtless given you an answerretire, and do not farther provoke his wrath."In the far-off days before the age of Confederation, war had, perhaps, been an affair of grinding, constant attack and defense. No one could say for sure: many records were gone, much had been destroyed. But now there was waiting, preparation, linked batteries of armaments and calculators for predictionand then the brief rush and flurry of battle, followed by the immense waiting once more.