"I mean what I say," replied Jonathan. "What's the matter?" he cried. Jonathan nodded assent. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. The third time she escaped she reached the inconsequent barricade of the overturned table. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it.
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