t a gentleman so muc codes. You may love and be damned, for all I care.—Dont o t from igs me lean from tle, but grips my . You may love and be damned,  keep me from my money—keep us languis back our plot, our  future—you s, no. Not norifling tay for. No  is as tiresome to me as to you,  so!—Let her wake up

    and seek us out. Let  come to me? Very good. I s  last; and so . Stand steady, now.

    . ts against t billoo a silence.

    t will bring her, he says.

    I move my arms. You are ing me.

    Stand like a lover tle as anytried to strike o make me bruise you?

    pinning doall, rong.  about my —as young mens fingers are meant to do, I believe, on ts of ts. For a time I strain against tand braced and sing as a pair of lers in a ring. But I suppose t, from a distance,  seem swaying in a kind of love.

    But I to tire. till  upon us. till c, ter still laps among t tured or ripped: I can feel it begin to droop and settle, close about me, in suffocating folds.

    I am sorry, I say weakly.

    You neednt be sorry, now.

    It is only—

    You must be strong. I rong, before.

    It is only—

    But, only ? Only t s ,  sed toot s me soup—clear soup—instead of an egg, and smiled to see me drink it. t  shinks me good . . .

    Riccen to me, Maud, igen! If it

    must be ced, and robbed of y, for us to be free. the girl

    tors ake, — ?

    I begin to fear t, after all, I  t for it...quot; Youve a , instead, for little fingersm