Chapter 14 OF THE THIRTY THOUSAND

One wonderful January twilight, when the clear, cold air seemed to tremble with lusty health, Myra sat alone in the Ramble, before the little frozen pond. And she thought:

"This is the bench we sat on; and it was here, that morning, that we quarreled; and this is the little pond; and those the trees-but how changed! how changed!"

A world-city