She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. He sent me home. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. Marina had retired to bed, drinking wine slowly, sleeping when she was not drinking. " "Never," echoed Smith, emphatically, "upon my honour. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. But you belong to me—and I want you.
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