The men died and the women changed, but the love persisted with the will
to live. It came from a thousand springs, but it rolled in one river to
one sea. The past stood there in the form of William Drew; he and Sally
made the present, and through his love of her sprang the hope of the
future.
It was all very clear to him. The love of Bard and Drew for Joan Piotto
had not died, but passed through the flame and the torment of the three
ruined lives and returned again with gathering power as the force which
swept him and Sally Fortune out into that river and toward that far-off
sea. The last mist was brushed from his eyes. He saw with a piercing
vision the world, himself, life. He looked to William Drew and saw that
he was gazing on an old and broken man.
He said to the old man: "Father, she is wiser than us both."
And he pointed to Sally Fortune, still weeping softly on the grave of
Joan.
But William Drew had no eye for her; he was fallen into a deep muse over
the blurred inscription on the headstone. He did not even raise his head
when Anthony touched Sally Fortune on the shoulder.
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