"Here, take this and get the letter and open and read it. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. ’ He sighed elaborately. But I have heard that he almost had to leave the schools. From one window the beach was always visible; from another, the stores. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Where was the message? Where was Gerald? Until he came back, what was there for her to do? Eh bien, it made no sense to do anything. We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. ” Rhea whispered. Manning. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room.
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