Hitherto you’ve seen only my easy, kindly side. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. "My mother is avenged. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. I'll wait here. “We are only in the dawn of the Age of Friendship,” he said, “when interest, I suppose, will take the place of passions.
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