Soon after he was absorbed for the evening by his cigar and
some business papers.

It was a mild, summer-like night, and a warm, gentle rain was falling.
Even in the midst of a great city the sweet odors of spring found their
way to the private parlor where Christine sat by the window, still
lost in painful thoughts.

"Nature is full of , and the promise of coming life. So ought I
to be in this my spring-time. Why am I not? If I am sad and disappointed
in my spring, how dreary will be my autumn, when leaf after leaf of
beauty, health, and strength drops away!"

A muffled figure, seemingly regardless of the rain, passed slowly down
the opposite side of the street. Though the person cast but a single
quick glance toward her window, and though the twilight was deepening,
something in the passer-by suggested Dennis Fleet. For a moment she
wished she could speak to him. She felt very lonely. Solitude had done
her no good. Her  only grew darker and more real as she brooded
over them. She instinctively felt that her father could not understand
her, and she had never been able to go to him for . He was not
the kind of person that any one would