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I thank God for the beauty you love and the faults you love. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. "Jack," said Mrs. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. “No! My father. Stanley. The kind of man who isn’t content with his science, and writes articles in the monthly reviews.

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