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. ” “You love—Anna?” she exclaimed. Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution. It is just the aim I have had in view all the time. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem.
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