He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. ’ Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist and lifted her to her feet. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. And on Monday and Tuesday she had failed to find him here. I don’t care WHAT happens.
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