Then the dome of night towered imponderable, immense, and the stars came back one by one, and the wolf-dogs mourned anew.
"I can offer you so little, dear," the man said with a slightly perceptible bitterness.

"The precarious fortunes of a gypsy wanderer." And the woman, placing his hand and pressing it against her heart, said, as a great woman had said before her, "A tent and a crust of bread with you, Richard.".