’ They passed through a little antechamber, and Melusine sighed with relief as she entered the library next door. Frequently she would doze in her chair; but the slightest movement on the bed aroused her. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair— eh?" "That's it," rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. She could think of nothing more to say. I’ve been on the watch for you. ” He said. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated.
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