"I--I--" He paused awkwardly, while down the breeze came the lament of the two little Gales.

"Well, I feel just as they do." He motioned in the direction of the sound.

"I wanted you for a friend, Doret; I hate to lose you." "I ain' never got my satisfy yet, so I'm pass on--all de tam' pass on.
Mebbe dis trip I fin' de place." "I'm sorry--because--well, I'm a selfish sort of cuss--and--" Burrell pulled up blushingly, with a strong man's display of shame at his own emotion.

"I owe all my happiness to you, old man.

I can't thank you--neither of us can--we shall never live long enough for that, but you mustn't go without knowing that I feel more than I'll ever have words to say." He was making it very hard for the Frenchman, whose heart was aching already with a dull, unending pain.