"
"Michelangelo gets a chance rather often, doesn't he, considering the
number of art people there must be over there? I believe I've seen a good
many sunsets of his, and a few dawns, too; the dawns not for a long time--
I used to see them more frequently toward the close of senior year, when
we sat up all night talking, knowing we'd lose one another soon, and
trying to hold on as long as we could."
She turned to him with a little frown. "Why have you never let Tom
Meredith know you were living so near him, less than a hundred miles, when
he has always liked and admired you above all the rest of mankind? I know
that he has tried time and again to hear of you, but the other men wrote
that they knew nothing--that it was thought you had gone abroad. I had
heard of you, and so must he have seen your name in the Rouen papers--
about the 'White-Caps,' and in politics--but he would never dream of
connecting the Plattville Mr. Harkless with _his_ Mr. Harkless, though _I_
did, just a little, and rather vaguely. I knew, of course, when you came
into the lecture. But why haven't you written to my cousin?"
"Rouen seems a long way from here," he answered quietly. "I've only been
there once--half a day on business. Except that, I've never been further
away than Amo or Gainesville, for a convention or to make a speech, since
I came here.
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