CHAPTER XXIII
"Quelque terme où nous pensions nous attacher et nous affermir il branle et nous quitte; et, si nous le suivons, il échappe à nos prises, nous glisse, et fuit d'une fuite éternelle."—Pensèes, Pascal.
"Let's sit by the fire," suggested Anne, "and utter 'cosmic platitudes' for the last time."
"It is too bad," said Mrs. Kent mournfully. "The winter has been so interesting, and now you are going away. That is the trouble with Bohemia: nothing stays."
"That's the trouble with life, isn't it?" remarked Howard wearily. "Nothing stays, except an endless process by which we learn. We never really attain."
"Oh yes we do!" contradicted Anne. "The Lord usually gives you the thing you want after you have begun to stop caring for it."
"That's the first pessimistic remark I ever heard you make," said Howard.
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