The Jacobite. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun.
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