Jocelyn Gordon and Jack had parted as acquaintances; they met as friends.

There is no explaining these things, for there is no gauging the depths of the human mind.

There is no getting down to the little bond that lies at the bottom of the well--the bond of sympathy.

There is no knowing what it is that prompts us to say, "This man, or this woman, of all the millions, shall be my friend." "I am sorry," he said, "that he should have had a chance of causing you uneasiness again." Jocelyn remembered that all her life.

She remembers still--and Africa has slipped away from her existence for ever.