The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. V. “I refuse. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. The whole neighbourhood was disturbed. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill?—brought off the swag—eh?" "No," answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, "I've not.
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