Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. Sheppard prepared for church. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. If you love me, do not allude to this subject again. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. "One'd think it rained fares, as well as blowed great guns.
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