" "Get hence," continued Mrs. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. She asked the girl to fetch Mr. Only a son’s another story. ” He leaned back in his chair as though wearied. Her hand grasped it firmly, and she pushed herself forward. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced.
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