Norton had, in
that flashing moment of time, put off mortality.

He had changed greatly from the John Norton of those early days. He had
known cruel physical suffering, and while he had won friends and money,
shame and bitter sorrow had been brought upon him by another. No wonder
the laughing brightness had gone out of him. It was said that he believed
in but two people on earth--Mary Anderson and Clara Morris, and he said
of them: "One is a Catholic, the other an Episcopalian; they are
next-door neighbors in religion; they are both honest, God-fearing women,
and the only ones I bow my head to." Oh, poor man! to have grown so
bitter! But in the Halifax days he loved his kind, and was as full of fun
as a boy of ten, as full of kindness as would be the gentlest woman.

Mr. Maginnis had his sister-in-law with him, a helpless invalid. She knew
her days were numbered, yet she always faced us smilingly and with
pleasant words. She was passionately fond of driving, but dreaded lonely
outings; so clubbing together, that no one might feel a sense of
obligation, we four, Dan and his sister, John Norton and I, used evenly
to divide the expense of a big, comfortable carriage, and go on long,
delightful drives about the outskirts of the gray old hilly city.

The stolid publicity of Tommy Atkins's love-making had at first covered
us with confusion, but we soon grew used to the sight of the scarlet
sleeve about the willing waist in the most public places, while a loving
smack, coming from the direction of a park bench, simply became a sound
quite apropos to the situation.

One yellow-haired, plaided and kilted young Highlander, whom I came upon
in a public garden, just as he lifted his head from an explosive kiss on
his sweetheart's lips, startled at my presence, flushing red, lifted his
hand in a half-salute, and at the same moment, in laughing apologetic
confusion, he--winked at me! And his flushing young face was so bonnie,
that had I known how I believe in my heart I'd have winked back, just
from sheer good-fellowship and understanding.

In that short season I had one experience, the memory of which makes me
pull a wry face to this day. I played _Juliet_ to a "woman-_Romeo_"--a so
plump _Romeo_, who seemed all French heels, tights, and wig, with _Romeo_
marked "absent." I little dreamed I was bidding a personal farewell to
Shakespeare and the old classic drama, as I really was doing.

One other memory of that summer engageme