There are problems you can argue
out with a neighbor or solve with the help of a friend. But the heart
has certain longings that you can share only with some one who is all
your own and very, very dear.
It is hard to be the last of a line, Cynthia's son told himself
bitterly, and in his loneliness he turned over and hid his face on his
arm and let his homesick heart stray off across the seas to the land
that for so long had been home to him, the land that held the dead
hearts that had always robbed his gray days of all sadness.
He craved the hot sunshine, the brittle blue skies, the crowded little
lanes full of filth and feet and eternal noise. Perhaps there in the
old home he might find eyes that held a bit of the great love he longed
for, a voice that had in it the hint of a caress, the note that would
give him new courage, new hope.
No--he did not know what was the matter with him. All he knew was that
summer was dead and that he had no one in all the world he could call
his very own. He did not know that lying there he was really waiting
for a step and a voice, a step that would stir the leaves with a joyous
rustling, a voice that even on a gray day sounded gay and sunshiny. He
had always liked Nan Ainslee's voice.
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