. Hastening to the church, he entered it by the very door near which his first crime had been committed. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ‘It is what my father intended. They almost made me feel like they were mine. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. He returned to the car, Cokes in hand. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. .
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