Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. " "But that's the point—I don't know. ” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience.
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