‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards. We made sure it was just like Gwen. I do not know how I shall get it, but I must, you understand. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled.
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