CHAPTER XIX
The April air had grown warm and sweet. Each day the sun went down in a golden haze. The willow branches were long ripples of pale green. Along the busy streets and in the quiet Square, flower-boys stood with baskets of pansies, arbutus, anemones, violets, "fi' cents a bunch." In the air a fresh quick wind beat with the beating of the pulses.
Through the swift days of sunshine dashed with rain, Helen followed a vision of Howard, ill and beyond her reach. Anne wandered, uneasy and idle, about Bohemia. For Mrs. Kent the past grew warm in the sunlight that fell upon her face. And Howard?
Howard stood one day by his window, pale still from his recent illness. Mrs. Orr and Annabel were busy in the room.
"Give me days of golden glory,
With my windows open wide,"
he hummed.
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