"
"But there isn't love in it," said Jean.
"There's love that carries them above self--and that's something."
"It is something, but it isn't much," said his small daughter,
obstinately. "I don't want to love the world, Daddy. I want to love
Derry--"
The Doctor groaned. "I thought I had escaped him, for a day."
"You will never escape him," was the merciless rejoinder, but she
kissed him to make up for it.
In spite of the fact of her separation for the moment from her lover,
she had enjoyed the ride. There had been much wind, and a little snow
on the way. But now the air was clear, with a sort of silver
clearness--the frozen river was gray-green between its banks, there
were blue shadows flung by the bare trees. As they passed the College,
a few black-frocked fathers and scholastics paced the gardens.
Jean wished that Derry were there to see it all. It was to her a place
of many memories. Most of the summers of her little girlhood had been
spent there, with now and then a Christmas holiday.
The house did not boast a heating plant, but there were roaring open
fires in all the rooms, except in the Connollys' sitting room, which
was warmed by a great black stove.
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