ing the eyes of the blind. After it, we see forces written over with meanings that escaped us before. So we go creeping nearer and nearer the heart of things. There are worlds within worlds."
The studio was silent for a minute, except for Miserere's purring.
"After all, the beauty of it lies in the mystery," continued Mrs. Kent. "Life is full of subtle hints, as if its experiences were symbols of something greater, that we cannot understand, yet."
"Oh dear!" said Anne. "Life seems to be a kind of game where the new question rises to the lips of the man who answered the last one. I suppose that the privilege of saying the last word is reserved for the last man."
It was growing late. Mrs. Kent rose to go. Anne lit the lamp and gazed sadly at her departing friends.
"It is going to be so lonely in Bohemia!" she said. "Mrs. Kent and I will go about with slowly whitening hair, holding converse with the ghosts of our
