The Rev. You know my fixed determination. “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. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. There’s something— something ADULT about you. He climbed on top of her, pressing her into the couch cushions, the gown billowing around them like a cotton candy parachute. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. I would not think so of you, Marthe. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life.
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