"The outward, wayward life we see
The hidden springs we may not know."
At the back of the little brown book we found a faded water-color
sketch of a young girl--such a slim, pretty little thing, with
big blue eyes and lovely, long, rippling golden hair. Paul
Osborne's name was written in faded ink across the corner.
We put everything back in the box. Then we sat for a long time
by my window in silence and thought of many things, until the
rainy twilight came down and blotted out the world.