no third between them but her brother,

surrendered to the sweetness of his dreams.

Yes, alone she was, and the others in the house had gone to their beds.

Even her father...

Her father — he at whose hands his wife had so long been held sacred, and who had so often offered her the oblations of worship, exalting and reverent — he had, as it seemed to the little one then, grown weary of this long illness his wife suffered, after spending much money on its account to no avail;

so he withdrew to a room of his own, not far from hers, to take at night the rest he hoped for—

because — as he kept repeating by way of excuse — he wished to provide for a large family without wearing himself out; and should she need him in the night, she could knock at the door that divided their two rooms, and he would answer her call at once.

But the sharp-eyed little one, who kept count of everything in the household, great and small, without a word of comment or a sign,

felt in her inmost depths a disgust at what was passing before her—

an overpowering disgust that stirred her womanly pride in the bottom of her soul, and made away with what little remained of that easy assurance

she used to feel in her father's petting of her, and in the petting of the whole household.

This, beyond doubt, was dissem-bling; and it would surely vanish the day she grew weak, or fell ill, or faded, or her face turned plain.

What, then, does this woman mean, and what is she wanted for?

And from here the little one learned to be strong of mettle, to search out the core of a thing before its glitter could beguile her.

And from here began, in her, the unjust doubt...

And upon this belief her great love of life came to rest, showing itself in its strongest elements toward this proud mother, whom she watched suffering the two bitternesses — illness and disap-pointment — yet in the silence of the proud, who spares no pains to veil the truth so as to satisfy his dignity...

And for this reason she never

once, on any night, knocked at the door of her father's room. Nor did her mother knock at it either... She would pass the whole night at her side, giving her no chance to object or protest: — And what is there in that, Mother? I feel warm at your side; how long I have wished to share your bed on the bitter winter nights! I find a drowning reas-surance in listening to your dear breathing, and in gazing at this gentle face of yours settled into sleep, as though it were the face of a gracious angel... Oh, let me... let me, for God's sake. I tell you

Swank

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The finest jewelry for men

SWANK

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Wallets and leather belts, etc. ...

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SWANK jewelry is the symbol of perfection.

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Agents and importers: Halim Hanna & Co.: Beirut