She had been dressed in blue, too--a pale, dainty blue; but that was of course; he had known she must wear it; and he was sure her name must be Alice.

When, later on, he discovered that it was, he felt no surprise.
He carried some mayflowers up to the west gable and put them under the picture.

But the charm had gone out of the tribute; and looking at the picture, he thought how scant was the justice it did her.

Her face was so much sweeter, her eyes so much softer, her hair so much more lustrous.

The soul of his love had gone from the room and from the picture and from his dreams.