” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things. So she approached him with sandwiches. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. “I don’t know, John. You promise me you’ll never grow old, you hear?” “I promise. '—'Pretty well,' says I; 'you're not badly off at the Friars, for that matter. To reach it would be a most difficult undertaking. If he awoke and caught you at it, there might be a set-back. “I want to know who you are. “Nevertheless,” Hill said doggedly, “I am here to speak to you alone.
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