"There's Sharples," cried Quilt. The girl’s eyes never left his face. “It was fine and brave of you. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. " The doctor hesitated, puffing his tobacco hastily. He talked with his manner gentle and kindly. Her sister had told him that it was true. “Mr. \"Did you girls finish your homework?\" Cathy's head appeared in the open door. "What I do is for the best, and I can only hope she may have strength to bear the separation. " Just then, the infant began to sob piteously. .
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