"I'd lay down my life for yours. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. She recoiled. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. ” “That sounds more promising,” Lady Lescelles declared. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. "Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits.
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