'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. For the present the desire to fly was gone. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. She chuckled.
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