A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. “Many nights I have thought of you, Anna. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. Her confession was still unmade. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. Will you tell her that?" "I will," replied Thames, earnestly. ” “She doesn’t care for him now?” “Not a bit. Yes, of course. At last his voice came to release her tension. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. “I do not understand.
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