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THE PHILOSOPHER MAN OF ACTION.
Gower's bedroom window looked over the shrubs of the square, and as his form of revolt from a city life was to be up and out with the sparrows in the early flutter of morning, for a stretch of the legs where grass was green and trees were not enclosed, he rarely saw a figure below when he stood dressing.

Now there appeared a petticoated one stationary against the rails, with her face lifted.

She fronted the house, and while he speculated abstractedly, recognition rushed on him.

He was down and across the roadway at leaps.
'It's Madge here!' The girl panted for her voice.
'Mr.Woodseer, I'm glad; I thought I should have to wait hours.