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 fervent admiration, reminding her of his life-long adoration and his love of the snow. She interrupted him with a melancholy smile, to say, "And you—even you—will forget me. The city will take you. You will build a home and sit by your fireside with your wife and children, and shudder when you hear me calling to you mournfully outside among the frozen drifts."

"Here you! Look where yuh're goin', will yuh?" A policeman thrust him back from "Dead Man's Curve," as a cable car swung around it with a frantic clang of its gong. "D' yuh want to go home 'n an amb'lance!"

He picked up his hat, and brushing it with his coat sleeve as he went, he hurried to the safety of the benches in the centre of the square. There he sat down with his drama, still trembling from the fright, but still smiling excitedly. He saw himself pleading with her to take him away from the world which he despised, to keep him with her hidden. He saw that she would not be able to resist him. She would carry him—on a cloud—to her summer palace in the unexplored North. A jealous nymph would betray her. The ballet in the great hall would be interrupted by the arrival of Jupiter, with stage thunder. The gods would sentence her to lose her immortality and her throne; she would return with him to the world, where they would live together—through the last act—in a little cottage in the woods. And she—because she shared with him the common menace of death and was linked to him by a doom that made love a fearful and precarious joy—she would be