A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. It was hot and dry. I wonder. Why don’t you just tell me what is going on with you! Why the police questioned you! Why they’re looking for your mother? I’ll understand! Just tell me and I swear to God Lucy I’ll understand. Was he pleased?” “Calmly! He said—you won’t mind my telling you?” “Not a bit. “Do you want some of mine?” “Yes. Men do not understand constancy as women do. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. '" "What is that?" she asked. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. S.
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