Speak lower. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. " "O Jack, dear, dear Jack!" cried Mrs. CHAPTER XIX. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. She would never, never go back. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights.
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