’ ‘Will you have done, Gerald?’ demanded Hilary, exasperated. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days. "How is the patient?" he asked. “I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. Wild is incapable of such baseness. “I do not even know who you are. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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