Anticipation Was The Soul Of Enjoyment.

My Heart Burnt Within Me With Indignation And Grief; We Could Think Of Nothing Else. All Night Long We Had Only Snatches Of Sleep, Waking Up Perpetually To The Sense Of A Great Shock And Grief. Every One Is Feeling The Same. I Never Knew So Universal A Feeling.

As She Realized What Might Have Been, She Grew To Be Thankful For What Was.

Margaret Was Not A Ready Lover, But Where She Loved She Loved Passionately, And With No Small Degree Of Jealousy.

Were All Men Equal To-night, Some Would Get The Start By Rising An Hour Earlier To-morrow.

. . . It Seemed To Me That Where Others Had Prayed Before To Their God, In Their Joy Or In Their Agony, Was Of Itself A Sacred Place.