It must have been impossible to see me through that much rain. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. As soon as he gets into blue water, he'll think no more of pitching the boy overboard than of lighting his pipe. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. And will you look! His name neatly cut out from each title page. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush.
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