. . .n have this admiring companionship continue; and yet it could not. Littleton had told her the day before that he was going back to New York and that it was doubtful if he would return. She would miss him. She would have the Institute and Mrs. Earle still, but her life would be less full.

Littleton was waiting for her at the church entrance. She followed him down the nave to the chancel where she listened dreamily to his presentation of the merits of the new decoration. He seemed inclined to talk, and from this presently branched off to describe with enthusiasm the plates of a French book on interior architecture, which he had recently bought as a long-resisted but triumphant piece of extravagance. Mechanically, they turned from the chancel and slowly made the round of the aisles. A short silence succeeded his professional ardor. His current of thought, in its reversion to home matters, had reminded him afresh of what was perpetually this morning uppermost in his . . . Read More