the third line, divided, shows its subject straitened before a frowning rock. he lays hold of thorns. he enters his palace, and does not see his wife. there will be evil.
"indeed, sir," said i, "these months are very easily filled up; but yet before i told my story, i would be glad to know that i was talking to a friend."
"this is to argue in a circle," said the lawyer. "i cannot be convinced till i have heard you. i cannot be your friend till i am properly informed. if you were more trustful, it would better befit your time of life. and you know, mr. balfour, we have a proverb in the country that evil-doers are aye evil-dreaders."
"my dear," their considerate aunt would reply, "it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself."
this morning she showed the traces of a sleepless night and an aching heart as she walked down marais street. across wide st. rocque avenue she hastened. "two blocks to the river and one below--" she repeated to herself breathlessly. then she stood on the corner gazing about her, until with a final summoning of a desperate courage she dived through a small wicket gate into a garden of weed-choked flowers.