“You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. Good-looking girl. But Manning seemed more and more clearly indicated as a refuge, as security. Wood's dwelling,—a plain, substantial, commodious farm-house. . Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. For a moment she remained silent. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches.
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