thought of Joe with happiness and misery. Surging foam, white clouds in the sky, sinking clouds of turquoise under the dark glassy slope of the water. Where are you now, my darling? Why are we apart?
The little rocking town goes on toward darkness, tied by invisible threads of memory to the shore, spinning them out as she goes. Some of them grow fine and vanish; some are so strong they will last to the end, drawing her back from every voyage. The white clouds change to long feathers of gold, motionless in the sky, while transparent dove-colored clouds flow over them, and over a thin white curl of new moon. The water says hush—hush
"Joe's not like other boys; he's never cared anything for girls," Kate complacently told Mrs. Driggs, Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. Jackson, so often that they grew weary of polite response. "I only wish he did. I just have to push him out to anything, and my dearest wish is to have him happily married to some nice girl." And then was in a panic if he looked with the mildest interest at the nicest girl.
She loved the evenings when she put "Forgotten" or "Little Gray Home in the West" on the Victor, and played Canfield, while Joe read the paper.
"Where's that Jack of diamonds? When the toil of the long day is past, I will come to con-tent-ment and rest—too high! Who's that a photograph of, on the society page, Joe?"
