"It was given me by poor dear Mrs. ” “You must admit,” he declared, “that to us—who had seen you—the thought of your trying anything else was amazing. Love lives on a higher plane. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. “I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. "Sit beside me," continued Mrs. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her.
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