At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. I asked her to marry me, and she consented. "Never give in. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door.
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