loved. There was no need of speech, yet he longed to hear the sound of her voice, which like her eyes had changed since she had been with child. In her voice, as in her eyes, there was that softness and gravity which is found in people continually concentrated on some cherished pursuit.

“So you’re not tired? Lean more on me,” said he.

“No, I’m so glad of a chance of being alone with you, and I must own, though I’m happy with them, I do regret our winter evenings alone.”

“That was good, but this is even better. Both are better,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“Do you know what we were talking about when you came in?”

“About jam?”