The gate was opened; the coffin brought into the churchyard; and Jack, whose eyes were filled with tears, saw Mr. I suppose I believe in God. . ” They returned to the Beck house and he walked her to the front door. ” She smiled faintly. "These writer chaps are queer birds. “I love your sister. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Ah! I shall never forget the figure Jack cut on that occasion. Finally she fell into reflection.
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