It never did any one any harm in all its little life.

They might have kissed it, one of them." Gregory felt that some one was sobbing in the room.
Late on in the evening, when the shutter was closed and the lamp lighted, and the rain-drops beat on the roof, he took the cloak from behind the door and went away with it.

On his way back he called at the village post-office and brought back a letter.

In the hall he stood reading the address.

How could he fail to know whose hand had written it?
Had he not long ago studied those characters on the torn fragments of paper in the old parlour?
A burning pain was at Gregory's heart.
If now, now at the last, one should come, should step in between! He carried the letter into the bedroom and gave it to her.