When it came time to eat once again, she hid out on the beach, a remote fastness beyond the city walls, a swampy morass that everyone avoided. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams.
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