“Anna,” he said, “you make it all indescribably hard for me. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. He sent me home. Luckily, Mrs. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. ” He was silent for some moments. Yes, there was someone there. But at the word “home” she turned again. Kneebone's 346 XIV. \" Mark was tall and skinny, a mop of brown hair over a pillar of freckles.
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