But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings.
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