And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. “Do you think it is fair of you to persecute me just now?” “It is not persecution, Anna,” he answered gently. Capes smiled cheerfully with his eyes meeting hers. "I was not aware it was in danger," rejoined Darrell. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment?” “Quite true!” she answered. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. ’ She spread her hands. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. ‘It is nothing. She’s taken my sword.
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