“Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. Mr. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself. 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.
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