‘ How I wish I could come with you! " shecried. But she .was withheld by something sostrong that she never even thought of askingherself what it was. Of course it was impossiblefor her to go with them. But she would haveliked to go, had it not been for the other thing,and tickled by the absurdity of her thought (howlucky to marry a man with a wash-leather bag forhis watch) she went with a smile on her lips intothe other room, where her husband sat reading.

Of course, she said to herself, coming into theroom, she had to come here to get somethingshe wanted. First she wanted to sit down in aparticular chair under a particular lamp. But shewanted something more, though she did not know,could not think what it was that she wanted. Shelooked at her husband (taking up her stocking andbeginning to knit), and saw that he did not wantto be interrupted—that was clear. He wasreading something that moved him very much.He was half smiling and then she knew he wascontrolling his emotion. He was tossing the pagesover. He was acting it——perhaps he was thinking

himself the person in the book. She wonderedl What book it was. Oh, it was one of old Sir1 8 1