“I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. She kept opening her eyes and looking at it. ” “Yes,” she said, and abruptly she liked him enormously. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. 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.
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