‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. Now, it won't do a bit of good to warn Spurlock. F. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. To find the incentive! But how? Thither and yon the idea roved, seeking the way. Then suddenly the curtain would fall.
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