Page:Frank Owen - Rare Earth, 1931.djvu/42

 was over. There was no future. Only a past that was a wistful memory. He must resign himself to the permanent loss of Dallis. Of course she was true to him but he refused to accept sacrifices from her.

Fifteen minutes later as they left Steinlin's office, Scobee said, "What is to become of me?"

"Who knows?" replied Hung Long Tom. He was more deeply shaken than he cared to admit. "For myself I refuse to lose hope. Somehow I feel that your life is not yet done. Somewhere there is a brilliant future for you. We must ponder the matter deeply, study it from every angle. Have courage. Why, you're not much more than a child, not half your life has been lived. This is a momentary lull. Although it is broad daylight we are lost in the weird blackness of night thoughts. What is it that the poet has written about night?

The night blackness Is a velvet curtain That descends in great folds Upon the fields of tea,