" "Mr. You see, it's like this. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. ‘That way. Besides, I'm afraid her simple honesty will spoil any invented yarn. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. . Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses.
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