207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. ‘It was a good chance for a new life,’ Joan explained, venturing to face Melusine again, ‘and Martha took it. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Do you recall the night she showed you the face in the locket? Do you remember how she said—'If only my mother had lived'? Did you ever see anything more tender or beautiful?" "I remember. ” “So far,” she continued, eyeing hungrily the last morsel of roll which lay upon her plate, “my only chance of occupation has lain with a photographer who engaged me on the spot and insulted me in half an hour.
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