“We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. Thank goodness you’ll understand. They always get back together. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. “For me,” Manning went on, “this isn’t final. I should say that having a doubt was enough to condemn it. He remembered also, all at once, the very first words he had heard her speak: “I was not born to this. "Before to- morrow night that boy shall join his father. ” “Men,” said Miss Miniver, “NEVER have a reason. Eventually her movements carried her to the little stand at the side of the bed. "That's it!"—eagerly. CHAPTER III.
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