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The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. ” “You do not flatter me,” she laughed. ’ ‘But it was not your fault,’ protested Gosse, shocked. Mary is very good, but she is too nervous to be the slightest protection. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. “Both. His perception of her personal beauty deepened and quickened with each encounter.
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