Only his hair was not changed, and hung in silky beautiful waves almost to his shoulders.
Tomorrow she would take the ragged edge off his collar, and put a new band round his hat.

She did not interrupt him, but she wondered how it was that he sat to write so intently after his long weary walk.

He was not tired now; his pen hurried quickly and restlessly over the paper, and his eye was bright.

Presently Em raised her hand to her breast, where lay the letter yesterday had brought her.

Soon she had forgotten him, as entirely as he had forgotten her; each was in his own world with his own.