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” “I shall always be grateful to you,” he declared. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. Bon. Lonesomeness isn't my worry. Recollect that. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. You have been to me like a mother, not only a wetnurse. Bullding,” she declared.
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