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. Wait, though. He looked at her, hurt. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. There is a musical programme, and we have the windows open and blinds up, and a pink lamp shade over the piano lamp—a sort of advertisement of the place, you know. I begin to fear I might be purposely go out of the way. She had tasted freedom now, and so far she had not felt the need of protection. Her sister had told him that it was true. I hope I may never come near her. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs.
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