” He started back as though he had been shot. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. Relief flooded her. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. In the mornings I find labour easy because I am going to see you. I expect Mr. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. Beneath that tree let us lie. It is useless to talk.
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