“Well!” she declared good-humouredly. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. ’ ‘Gad, there is someone there,’ exclaimed Hilary beside him, shading his eyes with one hand. Spurling, who did not dare to exhibit her satisfaction otherwise than by privately pinching the arm of her expected husband. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. I don’t care. At length, when he saw no escape from the inevitable, he took the four title pages from the manuscripts and typed new ones, substituting Taber for Spurlock. Mother and Son XI.
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