It made no difference what Miss Felicia might say to Ruth.

It was what she had said to HIM which made him realize the absurdity of all his hopes.

Everything that he had longed for, worked for, dreamed about, was over now--the long walks in the garden, her dear hand in his, even the song of the choir boys, and the burst of joyous music as they passed out of the church door only to enter their own for life.

All this was gone--never to return--never had existed, in fact, except in his own wild imagination.

And once more the disheartened boy turned his tired pain-racked face toward the bare wall.
Miss Felicia tripped downstairs with an untroubled air, extended two fingers to Mrs.Hicks, and without more ado passed out into the morning air.