Henry and Sylvia stood hand in hand, watching, until nothing but a feathery heap of ashes remained on top of the coals.

Then he replaced the lid and looked at Sylvia.
"Have you got any reason to believe that any living person besides you and I knows anything about this ?" he asked.
Sylvia shook her head.
"Do you think Miss Farrel knew ?" Sylvia shook her head again.
"Do you think that lawyer out West, who takes care of her money, knows ?" "No." Sylvia spoke in a thin, strained voice.

"This must be what she is always afraid of remembering," she said.
"Pray God she never does remember," Henry said.

"Poor little thing! Here she is carrying a load on her back, and if she did but once turn her head far enough to get a glimpse of it she would die of it.

It's lucky we can't see the other side of the moon, and I guess it's lucky we haven't got eyes in the backs of our heads." "You wondered why I didn't want her to get married to him," said Sylvia.
Henry made an impatient motion.