I'm so afraid I shan't be able to hold my eyes open with Jane, and Kate's tireder still.' She did not speak as if seeking for sympathy it was only the natural utterance of her thoughts in a moment of restful confidence.

Uttermost weariness was a condition too familiar to the girl to be spoken of in any but a patient, matter-of-fact tone.

But it was priceless soothing to let her forehead repose against the heart whose love was the one and sufficient blessing of her life.

Her brown hair was very soft and fine; a lover of another kind would have pressed his lips upon it.

Richard was thinking of matters more practical.