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He was torn away, as it were, from all business of life. "Why," he said under his breath, "it's you, Myra!" "Yes" tears stood in her eyes "it's I." He surveyed her up and down, and then their eyes met. He ran his hand through his hair. "You you " he murmured. "And how well you look, how strong, how fresh! Sit down! sit down!" She took the seat, trembling. She leaned forward.

Myra read the words again and again, sorely puzzled to decide what exactly they meant, wondering, incidentally, why Don Carlos had not awakened her to whisper what he had to say instead of leaving a note on her breast.

A sudden light of womanly tenderness illumined Jane's plain face. "The wife" looked out from it, in simple unconscious radiance. "Nor could I," she answered softly. "It took me three years to realise it as an indubitable fact." "I suppose you are very happy," remarked Myra. Jane was silent. There were shrines in that strong nature too wholly sacred to be easily unveiled.

They entered the side door of a dingy saloon, passed through a yellow hall, and emerged finally on the platform of a large and noisy rear room where several hundred members of the Teamsters' Union were holding a meeting. Gas flared above the rough and elemental faces, and Myra felt acutely self-conscious under that concentrated broadside of eyes.

Whatever danger there might have been from the effects of that sudden chill, it was soon over, though, of course, Aunt Myra refused to believe it, and Dr. Alec cherished his girl with redoubled vigilance and tenderness for months afterward.

"I notice he seems to avoid you as much as possible, and yet he and Tony have become great friends." "I think Don Carlos is the most exasperating man in the world, aunt, and it is most annoying that Tony should make such a fuss of him after what happened," responded Myra, half-petulantly. "It would serve Tony right if I threw him over.

"It all depends on what you mean by freedom," Lawanne replied. "Show me a free man. Where is there such? We're all slaves. Only some of us are too stupid to recognize our status." "Slaves to what?" Myra asked. "You seem to have come back in a decidedly pessimistic frame of mind."

"Holbein, how brave of you!" cried a voice behind me. "Good-morning. I'm not at all sure that I ought to speak to you." "Have you really been taking the sea so early," said Myra as she sat down between us, "or did you rumple each other's hair so as to deceive me?" "I have been taking the sea," I confessed. "What you observe out there now is what I left." "Oh, but that's what I do.

This morning, about eleven, I went and had a bathe, and I met another girl in the sea." "Horribly crowded the sea is getting nowadays," commented Archie. "And she began to talk about what a jolly day it was and so on, and I gave her my card I mean I said, 'I'm Myra Mannering. And she said, 'I'm sure you're keen on cricket." "I like the way girls talk in the sea," said Archie. "So direct."

Clement Rutherford, unlike any other member of the family, was a cold, reserved man, unpleasant in temper and disagreeable in manner. When he was still quite a boy, his mother's only sister, Miss Myra Van Vleyden, had died, and had bequeathed to him the large fortune which she had inherited conjointly with Mrs.