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 mother, who had seemed to wish it so strongly.

A servant interrupted her thoughts. "Will you have the tea on the terrace, madame?"

"No, bring it to the pergola in fifteen minutes, please," she replied, and walked slowly down the steps and through the garden, She stood silently between the pillars of the pergola and waited. Anthony had a desk here in this quiet place, and here the book was being written. He worked now in a very fury of speed and excitement. He did not hear nor see Priscilla at all. Page after page was completed and tossed aside. The servant appeared with the tea, and she motioned him to set it down in silence. Anthony wrote in a very frenzy of effort; Priscilla thought she had never seen him so uncontrolled. At last he threw down the pencil and stretched his arms straight above his head, with a deep sigh, as of a man coming out of a trance.

"Thank Heaven!" he said, and then he