And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. ’ Gerald let out a sigh both relieved and satisfied and repeated the name. It was obvious that he had waited for her. I—listen. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly.
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