” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. F. She entered the last room, his bedroom. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. "Will you write," asked the doctor, "and tell me how you are getting along?" "Oh, yes!" "The last advice I can give you is this: excite his imagination; get him started with his writing. He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. "Farewell!" cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street.
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