This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1919 edition. Excerpt: ... "It's all very mysterious," Michael was saying. "It's all so delightfully mysterious that I can hardly bear to ask any questions lest I destroy the mystery. I've been lying awake, exquisitely and self-admiringly awake for an hour, trying to work out where I am, why I'm where I am, why you're where you are, and where Stella is." Sylvia told him of the immediate occasion of his sister's departure, and when she had done so had a moment of dismay lest his affection or his pride should be hurt by her willingness to leave him in the care of one who was practically a stranger. "How very kind of you!" he said. "My mother would have been distracted by having to look after her grandson in the whirlpool of war-work upon which she is engaged. So you had typhus, too? It's a rotten business, isn't it? Did you feel very weak after it?" "Of course." "And we're prisoners?"' "I suppose so." The water did not seem to be getting on, and Sylvia picked up her family papers to throw into the brazier. "Oh, I say, don't destroy without due consideration," Michael protested. "The war has developed in me a passionate conservatism for little things." "I am destroying nothing of any importance," Sylvia said. "Love-letters?" he murmured, with a smile. She flushed angrily and discovered in herself a ridiculous readiness to prove his speculation beside the mark. "If I ever had any love-letters I certainly never kept them," she avowed. "These are only musty records of a past the influence of which has already exhausted itself." "But photographs?" he persisted. "Let me look. Old photographs always thrill me." She showed him one or two of her mother. "Odd," he commented. "She rather reminds me of my sister. Something about the way the eyes are set." "You're worrying about...