A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. Jonathan gave utterance to a low whistle. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. “I go to private school right now. There were always parrots and parrakeets screaming in the fruit groves.
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