picture, and gazed into those grey-green eyes till tears of passionate happiness filled my own.
"Oh! my dear, my dear, how shall I pass the hours till I hold you again?"
No thought, then, of my whole life's completion and consummation being a dream.
I staggered up to my room, fell across my bed, and slept heavily and dreamlessly. When I awoke it was high noon. Mildred and her mother were coming to lunch.
I remembered, at one o'clock, Mildred coming and her existence.
Now indeed the dream began.
With a penetrating sense of the futility of any action apart from her, I gave the necessary orders for the reception of my guests. When Mildred and her mother came I received them with cordiality; but my genial phrases all seemed to be someone else's. My voice sounded like an echo; my heart was not there.
Still, the situation was not intolerable, until the hour when afternoon tea was served in the drawing-room. Mildred and mother kept the conversational pot boiling with
Thorne Smith did it better.
When Mr. Devigne inherits a house from his aunt, he finds two pictures in the attic. One is of himself wearing old-fashioned clothes and the other is of a beautiful woman. One night he asks her to come out of the frame and lo and behold she does!
I didn't really care for this story. It's not my cup of tea.
