"But my world's been very different from yours."
"Then we've got to bring them closer together," he said, stirred by the wistfulness of her face.
"Bring what together?" she asked, apparently not following him.
"Your world and mine!" he said, quite grimly.
He took possession of her hand again. But she moved her head slowly from side to side. It seemed a protest against the impossible.
"It's got to be done!" he proclaimed. That cry, however, seemed to fall short of her attention.
"But I can show you the pictures now," she said in a tone of quiet challenge.
"What have the pictures got to do with us?" he demanded, resenting the intrusion of a workaday world on that moment of tensed emotion.
"Everything," the girl told him. "That's why you must see them."
"When!" he asked, resenting not only her movement away from him but also the
