Its beauty wholly passed her by, or if she saw it, it was only in vivid contrast to the darkness in her soul.

For a little, wide-eyed, she resisted the impulse that tugged at her heart-strings; but at last in sheer weariness she gave in.

What did it matter, a tear more or less?
There was no one to know or care.

And tears were sometimes a relief.

She bowed her head upon the sill and wept.
"Why, Doris!" a quiet voice said.
She started, started violently, and sprang upright.
Caryl was standing slightly behind her, his hand on the back of her chair, but as she rose he came forward and stood beside her.
"What is it ?" he said.