The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. "Yes; and I hope you'll take ample vengeance upon him," said Quilt. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. ’ Kimble chewed his lip, but his hostility was visibly lessening. M. “Why?” He inquired.
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