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"And forget?" said Nettie. "Not forget," I said; "but anyhow cease to brood upon you." She hung on that for some moments. "No," she said, demolished her last pattern and looked up at Verrall as he stirred. Verrall leant forward on the table, elbows upon it, and the fingers of his two hands intertwined. "You know," he said, "I haven't thought much of these things.

I said, feeling, as it were, a sting out of the old time. Verrall answered for her. "No. But things dropped; I saw you that night, my instincts were all awake. I knew it was you." "You triumphed over me? . . . If I could I would have triumphed over you," I said. "But go on!" "Everything conspired to make it the finest thing in life. It had an air of generous recklessness.

With the dawn that awakening went about the earth. I have told how it came to me, and how I walked in wonder through the transfigured cornfields of Shaphambury. It came to every one. Near me, and for the time, clear forgotten by me, Verrall and Nettie woke woke near one another, each heard before all other sounds the other's voice amidst the stillness, and the light.

Professor Gilbert Murray has published verse translations of various plays. He is an authority on the text. His volume on Euripides in the Home University Library is admirable. Euripides the Rationalist and Four Plays of Euripides by A. W. Verrall are well known; the latter is particularly stimulating. The views it expounds are original but not traditional. See Symonds' Greek Poets as above.

While I waited for Nettie and Verrall in this agreeable trysting place, I talked to the landlady a broad-shouldered, smiling, freckled woman about the morning of the Change. That motherly, abundant, red-haired figure of health was buoyantly sure that everything in the world was now to be changed for the better. That confidence, and something in her voice, made me love her as I talked to her.

"If this be I," I said, "then how is it I am no longer madly seeking Nettie? Nettie is now the remotest thing and all my wrongs. Why have I suddenly passed out of all that passion? Why does not the thought of Verrall quicken my pulses?" . . . I was only one of many millions who that morning had the same doubts.

Your mother's dreadful kitchen! And besides, Willie, I was afraid of you. I didn't understand you and I did him. It's different now but then I knew what he meant. And there was his voice." "Yes," I said to Verrall, making these discoveries quietly, "yes, Verrall, you have a good voice. Queer I never thought of that before!" We sat silently for a time before our vivisected passions. "Gods!"

They counted it with nightmares, and did their best to forget what was evidently as insignificant as it was disturbing. Section 1 FROM that moment when I insulted old Mrs. Verrall I became representative, I was a man who stood for all the disinherited of the world. I had no hope of pride or pleasure left in me, I was raging rebellion against God and mankind.

"The story of an Athenian tragedy is never completely told; it is implied, or, to repeat the expression used above, it is illustrated by a selected scene or scenes. And the further we go back the truer this is," continues Dr. Verrall; and the same was doubtless true of sculpture and painting. It is impossible to over-estimate the importance or advantage of this fact to the artist.

For the first time then I linked it clearly with all the fierce violence that had crept into human life. I joined up that with what I meant to do. I was going to shoot young Verrall as it were under the benediction of that green glare. But about Nettie? I found it impossible to think out that obvious complication. I came up over the heap again, and walked slowly back towards the wrangle.