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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Tender as dawn's first hill-fire," ... "What marshalled marvels on the skirts of May," ... "Shadows and shoals that edge eternity." ... "Oh," she breathed, "if only I didn't have to give it back!" "Lo! what am I to Love, the lord of all? One murmuring shell he gathers from the sand, One little heart-flame sheltered in his hand." "What, indeed?" thought Rosemary.
She had had it and been blessed by it, and now the time had come to surrender it. What was she, that she might hope to keep it? "Lo, what am I to Love, the Lord of all One little shell upon the murmuring sand, One little heart-flame sheltered in his hand " The moment of shelter became divinely dear.
Perhaps it was not all for Major King; perhaps not all assumed. "Let's not quarrel, Frances." "Not now, I'm too tired for a real good one. Leave it for tomorrow." He rode on in silence, not sure, maybe, how much of it she meant. Covertly she looked at him now and then, thinking better of him for his ingenuous confession of failure to warm himself at little Nola Chadron's heart-flame.
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