I'll tote it myself. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. Determined, however, not be taken with life, he held on.
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