h time, bent forward in feverish determination to work.
Useless; he scarcely knew what he wished to put into words, and his
brain refused to construct the simplest sentence.

The colours faded from the sky, and night came quickly. Reardon threw
his arms upon the desk, let his head fall forward, and remained so, as
if asleep.

Presently the door opened, and a young, clear voice made inquiry:

'Don't you want the lamp, Edwin?'

The man roused himself, turned his chair a little, and looked towards
the open door.

'Come here, Amy.'

His wife approached. It was not quite dark in the room, for a glimmer
came from the opposite houses.

'What's the matter? Can't you do anything?'

'I haven't written a word to-day. At this rate, one goes crazy. Come and
sit by me a minute, dearest.'

'I'll get the lamp.'

'No; come and talk to me; we can understand each other better.'

'Nonsense; you have such morbid ideas. I can't bear to sit in the
gloom.'

At once she went away, and quickly reappeared with a reading-lamp, which
she placed on the square table in the middle of the room.

'Draw down the blind, Edwin.'

She was a slender girl, but not very tall; her shoulders seemed rather
broad in proportion to her waist and the part of her figure below it.
The hue of her hair was ruddy gold; loosely arranged tresses made a
superb crown to the beauty of her small, refined head. Yet the face
was not of distinctly feminine type; with short hair and appropriate
clothing, she would have passed unquestioned as a handsome boy of
seventeen, a spirited boy too, and one much in the habit of giving
orders to inferiors. Her nose would have been perfect but for ever so
slight a crook which made it preferable to view her in full face than in
profile; her lips curved sharply out, and when she straightened them of
a sudden, the effect was not reassuring to anyone who had counted upon
her for facile humour. In harmony with the broad shoulders, she had a
strong neck; as she bore the lamp into the room a slight turn of
her head showed splendid muscles from the ear downward. It was a
magnificently clear-cut bust; one thought, in looking at her, of the
newly-finished head which some honest sculptor has wrought with his own
hand from the marble block; there was a suggestion of 'planes' and of
the chisel. The atmosphere was cold; ruddiness would have been quite
out of place on her cheeks, and a flush must have been the rarest thing
there.

Her ag