"Get up, mother," cried Jack; "do not kneel to him. "To me?" gasped Winifred. Lose no time. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. "I was just thinking of you Jack. ’ And with that he went off to the City, stern and silent, leaving his bacon on his plate—a great slice of bacon hardly touched. He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. .
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