“MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. ” “No, mine. ‘What a catalogue. ” She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. ’ Gerald sat back in his chair, thinking hard. Detention was merry for the other detainees. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse.
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