Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. His frowning gaze came back to her. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. 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. It was perfectly logical.
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