Disgusted with himself and with all things, be arose and made a pretence of searching in the wagon.

Rummaging about, his hand struck one of the round, gutta-percha plates which had accompanied the phonograph.

With silent vigor he cast it far above the tree tops below him on the mountain side.
"That," he explained to Constance as he turned, "is the 'Annie Laurie' record of the Heart's Desire grand opera.

The season is now over." The girl did not understand, but he lost the hurt look in her eyes.
Irritated, he did not hear her soul call out to him.
"It's the luckiest thing in the world that you happen to be here." Mr.
Ellsworth took up again the idea that was foremost in his mind.

"You fit in like the wheels in a clock.