She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. The last observation, however, caught the attention of the carpenter's wife. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. She repeated this breathlessly. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. A woman may choose any one for her lover, but for her friend she makes no mistake. He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. " "Jack!" cried Thames, in indignant surprise. We've got to get him to care.
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