“Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you. I am quite clear about this. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. Should be home soon. When I went I was refused admittance. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening. But he had always felt (he had never allowed himself to think of it) that the promptitude of their family was a little indelicate of her, and in a sense an intrusion. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest.
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