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“Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. Her little white hand stole across the table. ‘It is all the fault of that lantern. I don’t wish to marry you at all. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. So that it seemed to her the whole world had changed —the very light of it had changed. . "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness. ” He stared at her incredulously, and she laughed very softly. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door.
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