THE ARGONAUTS
to revisit earth and light and the frank, caress ing air.
Tired at last, we strolled back to the old sun-dial, and Harold, who never relinquished a problem unsolved, began afresh, rubbing his finger along the faint incisions. 'Time tryeth trothe. Please, I want to know what that means?'
Medea's face drooped low over the sun-dial, till it was almost hidden in her fingers. 'That's what I'm here for,' she said presently in quite a changed, low voice. 'They shut me up here—they think I'll forget—but I never will—never, never! And he, too—but I don't know—it is so long—I don't know!'
Her face was quite hidden now. There was silence again in the old garden. I felt clumsily helpless and awkward. Beyond a vague idea of kicking Harold, nothing remedial seemed to suggest itself.
None of us had noticed the approach of another she-creature—one of the angular and rigid class—how different from our dear comrade! The years Medea had claimed might
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