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"I shall clasp thee again: and with God be the rest!"
HE had found her! He repeated breathlessly to himself the one great fact. Leslie Damores had searched all their old haunts in Paris, had wandered and waited and watched, and now at last found her in a great class-room of French students. He had come as a special favor to the master in whose studio they worked, and he could not signal her out for more than a word, but by a clever clumsiness he knocked over her drawing-board. As he picked it up and gave it to her all the great unspoken things passed between them. It proved the mocking inadequacy of words that all he could say was "When may I see you? " and that she could only answer "After the class. " The first blessed moment had gone, general criticisms had to be given, and French and English art discussed. An hour passed interminably; he could not always stand where the glint of red gold hair made of the studio a new heaven and a new earth. Then in a blessed skirmish of conflicting drawing-boards and parting chatter the class broke up, and somehow the master and the pupil found themselves once more in the streets of Paris, or the new Jerusalem. There was at that moment ridiculously little in a name. Their thoughts were only a happy chaos, and he could do nothing but repeat the only fact that mattered.