167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. Now he courted with “servants” which he often killed afterward. ’ A sudden clatter of booted feet sounded in the hall beyond. We are in love. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. Senior year started with a whimper.
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