” “And what about this man—Mr. Wood's boat bearing up towards him. " "When will you want me?"—with pitiful eagerness. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. " Jonathan hastily picked up the pen, and presented it to Trenchard, who attached his signature to the document. He was tall, slender, and suave. But she had loved the man. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. He looked half at her and half at the sky. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. .
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