He was passing into unconsciousness, and a crowd of those natives were close upon our heels.

So I left him and took the picture with me--and I think since then that it has meant almost as much to me as ever it had been to him." "That," she remarked, "sounds a little far-fetched--not to say impossible." "Some day," he answered boldly, "I shall speak to you of this again, and I shall try to convince you that it is truth!" He could not see her face, but he knew very well in some occult manner that she had parted with some at least of her usual composure.

As a matter of fact she was nervous and ill-at-ease.
"You have not yet told me," she said abruptly, "what you imagine can be this girl's reasons for remaining unknown." "I can only guess them," he said gravely; "I can only suppose that she is ashamed of her father and declines to meet any one connected with him.

It is very wrong and very narrow of her.

If I could talk to her for ten minutes and tell her how the poor old chap used to dream about her and kiss her picture, I can't think but she'd be sorry." "Try and think," she said, looking still away from him, "that she must have another reason.