She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. htm or 26596-h. It was not for a week or a month. She took his hand in hers. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day.
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