"Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. ” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. ” She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. “But I am judge of that,” said Manning. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Well, it had to happen somewhen. .
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