In the excitement of his senses and his nerves, caused by this strain of waiting, everything seemed too vivid; all was beyond life size; like Art--whose truths; too strong for daily use, are thus, unpopular with healthy people.

As will the bones in a worn face, the spirit underlying things had reached the surface; the meanness and intolerable measure of hard facts, were too apparent.

Some craving for help, some instinct, drove him into Kensington, for he found himself before his, mother's house.

Providence seemed bent on flinging him from pole to pole.
Mrs.Shelton was in town; and, though it was the first of June, sat warming her feet before a fire; her face, with its pleasant colour, was crow's-footed like the little barber's, but from optimism, not rebellion.

She, smiled when she saw her son; and the wrinkles round her eyes twinkled, with vitality.
"Well, my dear boy," she said, "it's lovely to see you.