6. 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. Before you have lived—” He became darkly prophetic. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. "No Blueskin, I perceive, Sir," he observed, in a deferential tone, as Wild entered the Lodge. Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned. .
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