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"There'll be
plenty to keep me busy there," was his mental hope.
All his ambitions and plans seemed in a sense to have become
meaningless, made so by the something which but ten days before had been
unknown to him. Like Moses he had seen the promised land. But Moses
died. He had seen it, and must live on without it. He saw nothing in the
future worth striving for, except a struggle to forget, if possible, the
sweetest and dearest memory he had ever known. He thought of the
epigram: "Most men can die well, but few can live well." Three weeks
before he had smiled over it and set it down as a bit of French
cynicism. Now--on the verge of giving his mental assent to the theory, a
pair of slate-colored eyes in some way came into his mind, and even
French wit was discarded therefrom.
Peter was taking his disappointment very seriously, if quietly. Had he
only known other girls, he might have made a safe recovery, for love's
remedy is truly the homeopathic "similia similibus curantur," woman
plural being the natural cure for woman singular.


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