To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. Before she put on her sun-helmet, she paused before the mirror. But oh, how weary I am! I know. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. I thought that you were he. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident.
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