"I'm very sorry.

Shall we talk of something else ?" But he still held her hands closely clasped.

"Listen, Christine, my little one! These things they pass.

They are as a dream in the midst of a great Reality.

They are not the materials of which we weave our life.
Envy, ambition, success--what are they?
Only a procession that marches under the windows, and we look out above them, you and I, to the great heaven and the sun; and"-- something more than eagerness thrilled suddenly in his voice--"we know that that is our life--the Spark Eternal that nothing can ever quench." He ceased abruptly.