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so." ¡¡¡¡Carton terminated the conversation here, by rising to help him on with his outer coat; "But you," said Mr. Lorry, reverting to the theme, "you are young." ¡¡¡¡"Yes," said Carton. "I am not old, but my young way was never the way to age. Enough of me." ¡¡¡¡"And of me, I am sure," said Mr. Lorry. "Are you going out?" ¡¡¡¡"I'll walk with you to her gate. You know my vagabond and restless habits. If I should prowl about the streets a long time, don't be uneasy; I shall reappear in the morning. You go to the Court to-morrow?" ¡¡
¡¡"Yes, unhappily." ¡¡¡¡"I shall be there, but only as one of the crowd. My Spy will find a place for me. Take my arm, sir." ¡¡¡¡Mr. Lorry did so, and they went down-stairs and out in the streets. A few minutes brought them to Mr. Lorry's destination. Carton left him there; but lingered at a little distance, and turned back to the gate again when it was shut, and touched it. He had heard of her going to the prison every day. "She came out here," he said, looking about him, "turned this way, must have trod on these stones often. Let me follow in her steps."

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and pint pot, by bearer, as they might prove serviceable during the brief remainder of his existence, in jail. He also requested, as a last act of friendship, that I would see his family to the Parish Workhouse, and forget that such a Being ever lived. ¡¡¡¡Of course I answered this note by going down with the boy to pay the money, where I found Mr. Micawber sitting in a corner, looking darkly at the Sheriff 's Officer who had effected the capture. On his release, he embraced me with the utmost fervour; and made an entry of the transaction in his pocket-book - being very particular, I recollect, about a halfpenny I inadvertently omitted from my statement of the total.
¡¡¡¡This momentous pocket-book was a timely reminder to him of another transaction. On our return to the room upstairs (where he accounted for his absence by saying that it had been occasioned by circumstances over which he had no control), he took out of it a large sheet of paper, folded small, and quite covered with long

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¡¡¡¡I made allowance for Steerforth's light way of treating the subject, and, considering it with reference to the staid air of gravity and antiquity which I associated with that 'lazy old nook near St. Paul's Churchyard', did not feel indisposed towards my aunt's suggestion; which she left to my free decision, making no scruple of telling me that it had occurred to her, on her lately visiting her own proctor in Doctors' Commons for the purpose of settling her will in my favour. ¡¡¡¡'That's a laudable proceeding on the part of our aunt, at all events,'
Steerforth, when I mentioned it; 'and one deserving of all encouragement. Daisy, my advice is that you take kindly to Doctors' Commons.' ¡¡¡¡I quite made up my mind to do so. I then told Steerforth that my aunt was in town awaiting me (as I found from her letter), and that she had taken lodgings for a week at a kind of private hotel at Lincoln's Inn Fields, where there was a stone staircase, and a convenient door in the roof; my aunt being firmly persuaded that every house in London was going to be burnt down every night.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

¡¡¡¡'And now we are no longer traveling toward Japan,' I answered. 'Our drift is to the southeast, or south-southeast, at the rate of at least two miles an hour.' ¡¡¡¡'That will be only twenty-four miles,' she urged, 'if the wind remains high all night.' ¡¡¡¡'Yes, and only one hundred and forty miles if it continues for three days and nights.' ¡¡¡¡'But it won't continue,' she said, with easy confidence. 'It will turn around and blow fair.' ¡¡¡¡'The sea is the great faithless one.' ¡¡¡¡'But the wind!' she retorted. 'I have heard you grow eloquent over the brave trade-wind.' sextant,' I said, still gloomily. 'Sailing one direction, drifting another direction, to say nothing of the set of the current in some third direction, makes a resultant which dead-reckoning can never calculate. Before long we shall not know where we are by five hundred miles.' ¡¡¡¡Then I begged her pardon and promised I would not be disheartened any more. At her solicitation, I let her take the watch till midnight- it was then nine o'clock; but

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

understood so well in others. And now it had come! Undreamed of and unheralded, it had come. In what would have been no less than an ecstasy, I left my post at the head of the companionway and started along the deck, murmuring to myself those beautiful lines of Mrs. Browning: ¡¡¡¡ I lived with visions for my company ¡¡¡¡ Instead of men and women years ago, ¡¡¡¡ And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know ¡¡¡¡ A sweeter music than they played to me. ¡¡¡¡But the sweeter music was playing in my ears, and I was blind and oblivious to all about me. The sharp voice of Wolf Larsen aroused me. ¡¡¡¡'What the hell are you up to?' he was demanding. ¡¡¡¡I had strayed forward where the sailors were painting, and I came to myself to find my advancing foot on the verge of overturning a paint-pot. ¡¡¡¡'Sleepwalking, sunstroke- what?' he barked. ¡¡¡¡'No; indigestion,' I retorted, and continued my walk as if nothing untoward had occurred.

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'Shut the doors and draw the slide,' Wolf Larsen said to me. ¡¡¡¡I noticed an anxious light in Johnson's eyes, but mistook it for the native shyness and embarrassment of the man. The mate, Johansen, stood away several feet to the side of him, and fully three yards in front of him sat Wolf Larsen on one of the revolving cabin chairs. An appreciable pause fell after I had closed the doors and drawn the slide- a pause that must have lasted fully a minute. It was broken by Wolf Larsen. ¡¡¡¡'Yonson,' he began. ¡¡¡¡'My name is Johnson, sir,' the sailor boldly corrected. ¡¡¡¡'Well, Johnson, then,- you! Can you guess why I have sent for you?' ¡¡¡¡'Yes, and no, sir,' was the slow reply. 'My work is done well. The mate knows that, and you know it, sir. So there cannot be any complaint.' ¡¡¡¡'And is that all?' Wolf Larsen queried, his voice soft and low and purring. ¡¡¡¡'I know you have it in for me,' Johnson continued with his unalterable and ponderous slowness. 'You do not like me. You- you-' ¡¡¡¡'Go on,' Wolf Larsen prompted. 'Don't be afraid of my feelings.'

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She did not reach the house unobserved. just by the garden hedge she was met by a girl who knew her - one of the two or three with whom she had been intimate at school. After making a few inquiries as to how Tess came there, her friend, unheeding her tragic look, interrupted with-- ¡¡¡¡`But where's thy gentleman, Tess?' ¡¡¡¡Tess hastily explained that he had been called away on business, and, leaving her interlocutor, clambered over the garden-hedge, and thus made her way to the house. ¡¡¡¡As she went up the garden-path she heard her mother singing by the back door, coming in sight of which she perceived Mrs Durbeyfield on the doorstep in the act of wringing a sheet. Having performed this without observing Tess, she went indoors, and her daughter followed her. ¡¡¡¡The washing-tub stood in the same old place on the same old quarter-hogshead, and her mother, having thrown the sheet aside, was about to plunge her arms in anew. ¡¡¡¡`Why - Tess! - my chil' - I thought you was married! - married really and truly this time - we sent the cider--'

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Mr and Mrs Crick were promptly told - with injunctions to secrecy; for each of the lovers was desirous that the marriage should be kept as private as possible. The dairyman, though he had thought of dismissing her soon, now made a great concern about losing her. What should he do about his skimming? Who would make the ornamental butterpats for the Anglebury and Sandbourne ladies? Mrs Crick congratulated Tess on the shilly-shallying having at last come to an end, and said that directly she set eyes on Tess she divined that she was to be the chosen one of somebody who was no common outdoor man; Tess had looked so superior as she walked across the barton on that afternoon of her arrival; that she was of a good family she could have sworn. In point of fact Mrs Crick did remember thinking that Tess was graceful and good-looking as she approached; but the superiority might have been a growth of the imagination aided by subsequent knowledge.

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Chief-Inspector Davy waited patiently until Mrs.Melford had finished talking. It had been a singularly unprofitable interview. CousinMildred had been incoherent, unbelieving and generally feather-headed. Or that was Father's private view. Accounts of Elvira's sweetmanners, nice nature, troubles with her teeth, odd excuses told through the telephone, hadled on to serious doubts whether Elvira's friend Bridget wasreally a suitable friend for her. All these matters had been presented to theChief-Inspector in a kind of general hasty pudding. Mrs. Melford knew nothing, had heardnothing, had seen nothing and had apparently deduced very little.　A short telephone call to Elvira's guardian, Colonel Luscombe had been even more unproductive, thoughfortunately less wordy. "More Chinese monkeys," he muttered to his sergeant as he put down the receiver. "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."

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The boy was good, and the boy had come from him—so there must have beengood in him, too. He smiled up again at his son, and for the first time, loved him.And for the first time in many long years, loved himself again, as well. Suddenly he smelled something—flared his nostrils, sniffed once more.Wildflowers, that was what it was. Just blooming; it must be spring. And there was thunder—he cocked his head, strained his ears. Yes, springthunder, for a spring rain. To make the flowers bloom. Yes, there…he felt a raindrop on his lips. He licked the delicate droplet…butwait, it wasn't sweetwater, it was salty, it was…a teardrop. He focused on Luke once again, and saw his son was crying. Yes that was it, hewas tasting his boy's grief—because he looked so horrible; because he was sohorrible. But he wanted to make it all right for Luke, he wanted Luke to know he wasn'treally ugly like this, not deep inside, not all together. With a little self-deprecatory