Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. On the same peg and evidently belonging to it was a black velvet Zouave jacket. . Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. She did not wince.
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