Home!— which I never hoped to see again. I heard from David about you only this morning. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. “Are you in the Service?” She asked him. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly.
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