ied to calm me, and could not. I  last, I sank and  rise. Dainty  and pleaded—took up er and t in my face— ran doreet to a neigtle of salts; but I lay, as if dead. I  sick. I  sick in a moment, like t.

    So my old room and put me to sleep in my oo take my goalked like a madartan, and india-rubber boots, and—most especially—of sometaken, t I s. ? s? O so often, so pitifully, s me all my t finally s of my goe creased and black and bitten; and t ook it from  and  over it as if my  would break.

    I dont remember. I kept in a fever for nearly a er t so feeble I migill. Dainty nursed me, all t time—feeding me tea and soups and gruels, lifting me so I mig,  from my face. I still , and cursed and ted,  I  more, ime I   of dam about my , keeping out my love: no, my   I s gre seemed to me at last t I  o Dainty; Id say it, over and over. But Id say it steadily—in a ; t back my strengt  I mean to find  care if it takes me all my life. Ill find , and tell  I kno be married! I dont care. Ill find ell ;

    It  of. I ing, to be art. And at last I t I ed enoug o seem to tilt and turn, ill. I o take o oolter, and tucked it into my goy t I

    must o my fever. t I o cry.

    ? s to start my searc Briar. But  t, s  y minutes. c , so long ago, in tarc s use to bury ake it. I kissed  know . . .

    And so I left time, and made to Briar, over again. time. train ran smoot Marlo me o take t ttle bag I ? And t time: Is no-one come to meet you?

    I said I opped to rest on a