The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Yet you knew that I was not dead. It came to her like a dear thing rediscovered, that she loved Capes. Anna, who had thrown aside her sealskin coat, wore a tight-fitting walking dress of some dark shade. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. He whispered in her ear. I couldn’t rest or eat or sleep. I understand nothing of what you say. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail.
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