to the identity of the owner. In one of them, however, she did find
where a name had been scratched out, as with a knife.

Taking up again the copy of Shakespeare's works, she glanced at the
play where the book was lying open. It was "Timon of Athens," and the
page upon which her eyes rested contained Timon's terrible curse
outside the walls of Athens. She read it through, and then let the
book drop upon her lap, wondering why any one in his right mind could
so curse his fellow beings. She glanced toward the man upon the cot.
Had he been reading those words ere he laid the book aside? she mused.
What connection had that curse with him? Did he hate his fellow men as
Timon did of old? Perhaps he, too, had been wronged, and had fled to
this lonely place. She recalled what he had said about those starving
Loyalists. Surely there must be some good reason for his intense
bitterness.

As she thus sat there gazing dreamily into the fire, the man on the cot
stirred, uttered a slight moan, opened his eyes and looked at the girl.

"Ah, so you've been keeping watch, have you?" he asked. "Pretty lonely
job, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Jean brightly replied, laying aside the book and rising
to her feet. "I have been looking at your books. My, what a reader
you must be! But why do you read such stuff as that?"

"What stuff? I hope you don't call Shakespeare's works 'stuff.'"

"Oh, I am merely referring to Timon's curse. It is terrible. But,
there, I don't want to talk about it. Let me make you a cup of tea.