” “Why not?” “You see, if I do go home my father objects to the College, and as for typing —” “Don’t go home. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. She still had her letter of credit. Some day I shall come back, and I will show you on canvas the things which have come to me up here amongst the eternal silence. She was quite unconcerned. Pshaw!" added he, making an effort to subdue his emotion, "I can't leave you in this way. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely.
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