No matter. He moved slightly, and she went on, with a slight catching of her breath: “It’s a bother and disturbance, but you see—” She had to go through with it now, because she could think of nothing but her preconceived words. It clicked and the bookshelf was once more intact. " "It matters not what I think," replied Wild. I have worn it for weeks and weeks. “I think you are getting to understand me better. "What did you say to him?" inquired Jonathan, suspiciously. ’ ‘From a convent? Even if I wished to do it, I could not. You’re tired, of course. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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