My only love is for my poor lost son. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. And now, my angel, that I am acquainted with your sentiments on this subject, I shall readily fulfil a promise which I made to your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore. Ask your own conscience. This child was frequently disconcerting. ” For a fraction of a second the two young men hesitated. He uttered a short laugh. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. Happen what might, he could not be in a worse position. Luckily, Mrs. Spurlock dove headlong at the other's legs, toppling the man. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams.
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