Love is one thing and friendship quite another. For a time I didn't know we'd ever find you. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. And afterward her mother and Alice kissed long and clung to each other. A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters.
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