should have stretched out arms of longing.
Even if Babette had been present, she would
only have smiled her gay little smile and co-
quetted with him. She could not understand.
He had known, of course, from the first mo-
ment, that she could not understand! And
so, why the ache, ache, ache of the heart!
Or WAS it the heart, or the brain, or the
soul?

Sometimes, when the evenings were so hot
that he could not endure the close air of the
house, he sat on the narrow, dusty front porch
and looked about him at his neighbors. The
street had once been smart and aspiring, but
it had fallen into decay and dejection. Pale
young men, with flurried-looking wives, seemed
to Boyce to occupy most of the houses. Some-
times three or four couples would live in one
house. Most of these appeared to be child-
less. The women made a pretence at fashion-
able dressing, and wore their hair elaborately
in fashions which somehow suggested board-
ing-houses to Boyce, though he could not
have told why. Every house in the block
needed fresh paint. Lacking this renovation,
the householders tried to make up for it by
a display of lace curtains which, at every
window, swayed in the smoke-weighted breeze.
Strips of carpeting were laid down the front