dropped asleep. But generally, when I raised my head, I saw her blue eyes looking at me with the quiet attention of which I have already spoken.

‘Oh, what a weary boy!’ said Dora one night, when I met her eyes as I was shutting up my desk.

‘What a weary girl!’ said I.

‘That’s more to the purpose. You must go to bed another time, my love. It’s far too late for you.’

‘No, don’t send me to bed!’ pleaded Dora, coming to my side. ‘Pray, don’t do that!’

‘Dora!’ To my amazement she was sobbing on my neck. ‘Not well, my dear! not happy!’

‘Yes! quite well, and very happy!’