silence, trying desperately to be happy, trying desperately not to see
the tiny wrinkles, the faint crow's feet Time had sketched in her face
as a memorandum of the work he meant to do shortly.
Billy consoled himself with the reflection that he was very fond of
her; but, oh (he thought), what worship, what adoration he could
accord this woman if she would only decline--positively--to have
anything whatever to do with him!
I think we ought not to miss hearing Mr. Kennaston's discourse. It is
generally conceded that his style is wonderfully clever; and I have
no doubt that his detractors--who complain that his style is mere