” He rolled his eyes, trying 190 to conceal pride. It was for ever. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. ’ They moved to the door, while the lady shrugged, and then seated herself, glancing from the window into the street below, and then turning again to watch them in their huddle at the other side of the library. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers.
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