happens to you or me, this is a love that shall not die."

Saying which, having now lingered to the last possible moment, he dashed
from her to his waiting taxicab--his own car having already gone by
express--with just five minutes to catch his train.

From the drawing-room window, Carlisle waved her hand to him; kissed it,
too, since nobody was looking. And then the car leapt forward and shot
away out of sight down the glistening street. Hugo was gone, and
Carlisle was alone.

She stood at the window, looking out blankly into the leaden wetness. It
was just after five, and the rain poured. A curious depression settled
quickly upon her, which was hardly fully accounted for as "missing Hugo
already."... Why? Who upon earth had less cause for depression than she?
No girl lived with more all-embracing reasons for being superlatively
happy. What, then, was the lack in her?--or was this some lack in the
terms of life itself? Was it the mysterious law of the world that
nobody, no matter what she had or did, should ever long keep the jewel
happiness unspotted by a doubt?




XVII

Cally crosses the Great Gulf; and it isn't quite Clear how
she will ever cross back again.