Jane Journeys On

hair. Nothing that was human was alien to him, certainly, and nothing that was feminine was anything more than merely human to him. It appeared, however, that he did have a sense of values

nted to know. "What makes you think I could help?

ason! She's had her fill of us, God help her. The way we've been exhorting her for days on end. You'll be bringing a fresh

was finding the conversat

r a compliment but rather laying a charge upon her, "you have been anointed with the oil of joy above y

es (to put it lyrically) for this sort of thing, now, had she? She had to come to New York to seek her fortune, not to-to-whatever it was that Michael Daragh wanted her to do. And yet, she was always being drawn, willynilly, into any woe within her ken. Herself a contained creature of radiant health and placid nerves with a positively masculine aversion to scenes and applied emotion of any sort, people were always coming and confiding in her. She had been the reluctant repository for the secrets of half her l

idn't come at all. I had the most alluring invitation for m

in a cloak the color of old red wine and there was a jubilant red wing in her dark turban, and it may have occurre

nce her baby was born. It'll be two,

teen?

od elder sister. Well, one day she tells the matron she

at were we always telling you? A

baby,' says Ethel, 'and w

your own free will, that you've worked and slaved f

en can move her, Jane Vail." They were picking their way through a damp and

thing. Coming to-day, Irene is, to carry it off to the place she's found for it-some distant

hel care fo

to feeling sure she'll lose him if she tells. Wait till you see the look she has on her. 'Sup

to her-to beg h

nod

utsider. Coming in-nobly giving up a matinée and tea-to

're feeling. But with the likes of her, poor child, somebo

mes make me think of the wind off the three lakes on the road to Ke

en Ireland. Whiles, I'm destroyed with the homesickness

g worth mentioning with all this uplift work-and gives away what he does get. Emma Ellis doesn't know any more about him than I do. But I will say he's less trouble than any man I ever had under my roof. And, of course, he's not common

St. Michael. "He ought really to be carrying his sword and his symbol," she told herself, "and I daresay Rap

e," said Michael

its smugly dreary look of good works! Why must they have that liver-colored glass in the door?" They mo

e given, you see." He rang the bell and t

nd dripping and from a dim region at the rear came the smell of dishwater. Down the narrow, precipi

shman. "This lady is Jane Vail,

stolid, incurious look and shuffled down the hall

villy but eyed her in some puzzlement. Here was a st

g her hand at Ethel for

e. She's turned sullen, now. She won't take any interest in the Christmas preparations; wouldn't help the girls a bit." She sighed and looked at a table cluttered with paper paraphernalia for holiday decorations. In her world of bleak realiti

ght," said M

be married Monday, and Irene's coming

ruder she felt. But once out of the severe little office, mounting the stairs after Michael Daragh, her usual vivid sense of drama came back to her. This was, after all, what she had left the snug harbor for and put out to sea. This

for granted her dedication to this obscure girl's ne

e said, pausing at a closed

said Jane, lifting a l

," said Michael Dara