Wait, though. “To-night we are as we have always been. ” John looked at her sympathetically. ” “And you?” “Rather!” “I wonder why?” “There’s no why. Give me the books. . ’ ‘Truly?’ asked Melusine, warmth lighting her bosom. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft.
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