Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. You have neither reason nor logic. " "I do love him," cried Blueskin, "and that's the long and short of it. From the first I could see that neither believed my story. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. Mind you don't stir till supper's over. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty.
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