But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. They do a good job, huh?” He smiled at her. She sighed with relief. 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. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan.
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