His Grace — page 179: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HIS GRACE. 193 CHAPTER XIV. I COME WHEN I AM CALLED. Is it the result of centuries of civilization or a mere vague, inherited instinct of barbarism that compels us to keep our troubles to ourselves and to mention them only at rare intervals even to those from whom we could fain have no concealments? North American Indians are said to be our masters in the exercise of stoicism, and the courage which we are inclined to associate with good birth is forever cropping up in the most un- expected quarters. Be that as it may, there is a certain class of sorrows which cannot be discussed with com- fort or advantage, and to that class my poor Nora’s sorrow belonged. It was tacitly agreed upon between us that the subject must be a forbidden one; during our daily walks and rides we talked about every imaginable subject except that of which we were both thinking ; I am sure she knew that I would gladly have consoled her, had consolation been possible, while I, on my side, was only too well aware that she was not the less mortified and miserable because she kept up such a brave show of cheerfulness. Everything went on as if nothing was the matter ; only everything had lost its savor. The days had gone by forever when the bare facts of existence and robust health and of having one another’s company, GOMIchboOo cS co