” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. I’m a Socialist, Miss Stanley. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. You care for me just a little, I know. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. That is where life takes advantage of youth. I refused to sign a petition in his behalf to the Recorder; not from any ill-will to him, but because it was prepared by a person whom I particularly dislike— Captain Darrell. "Bring the light, Nab. .
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