In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. Well, I don't blame you on that ground. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. Can I be of any assistance? I can assure you that it would give me very much pleasure. Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask for advice, or borrow money from any one, I would from you—there! But I cannot. He was snoring stupidly.
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