“I’m thirsty. He walked through a wide open archway, curtained with deep-blue curtains, into the apartment that served as a reception-room. If he dies she is safe. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. ‘Where is there that I can go?’ All at once Alderley felt acutely suspicious. Rowland's plans were quickly formed, and as quickly executed. 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. She moaned as she touched him. I said to myself, ‘this will come. .
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