" "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. This was what he missed. It is a serious accusation. “You asked me in to tea,” he protested. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. I have a hundred of them—mixed blood—on my island, and they are always rooking me. I don’t suggest any philanthropy. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers.
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