The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. “This stirs one. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. I’ll have to make a visit out of town. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. Then she looked up at Brendon. Spurling. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. In that case I'll help you.
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