es as though I can do great
things if you---- You see, you are everything to me, everything!
Promise me this: If I find out who my father is, may I speak to you
again? Do you think--do you think it is possible for you----?"

At that moment some acquaintances came up, and Mary Bolitho turned as
if to leave him.

"But give me an answer before you go!" he said eagerly. "Is there any
possibility--in spite of my handicap?" And then he felt that his heart
had, for a moment, ceased to beat. He forgot where he was. The
chatter of the crowd was nothing to him; it did not exist.

"Everything is possible to a man who doesn't know when he's beaten!"
she said with a radiant smile, and then turned towards her friends.

Paul remembered little of what took place after that, and he soon found
himself walking near Hyde Park alone. It was very wonderful to him--so
wonderful that he could not altogether realise it. She had seemed to
promise him so much, even though she had said so little. He felt as
though the sky had become higher, the world bigger. He had never dared
to hope for so much, never dreamt she would speak to him so kindly.
They belonged to different worlds, were reared amidst different
associations, and yet she had not treated him with scorn. Yes,
everything was possible! And he would translate that possibility into
the actual. He would win her a name and a position that even she might
be proud of. For he had idealised her. To him she was far removed
from all the others that he had ever met, and he must do something
worthy of her. For hours he walked around the Park alone, wondering
how he should begin to carry out the object nearest and dearest to his
heart. Poor Paul, he knew little of the ways of the world, especially
of the world in which Mary Bolitho lived. Among the lads and lasses in
Brunford courtship and marriage were very simple. The boy met his girl
there, and they married each other without difficulty. But Paul knew
that there were certain formalities that had to be complied with in the
class to which Mary Bolitho belonged. She was a judge's daughter, and
he, although he had succeeded beyond his hopes, was still looked upon
as little more than a working man. One thing, he knew he ought to ask
Judge Bolitho for his permission to seek his daughter's hand. He had
no right to pay her attentions otherwise. It was a frank and
honourable course of action, too, and appealed to him strongly, and i