There was no one stirring in the flats. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. Tears sprang to her eyes. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. " "Never," replied Sheppard bitterly. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. “I’ve got bad faults.
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