Sometimes at such acute crises in our lives the limitations of our physical nature do strike us after this fashion.

It is strange to be so near and yet so far, and it brings the absolute and utter loneliness of every created being home to the mind in a manner that is forcible and at times almost terrible.

John Niel sinking composedly to sleep, his mind happy with the recollection of those two right and left shots, and Jess, lying on her bed, six feet away, and sobbing out her stormy heart over him, are indeed but types of what is continually happening in this remarkable world.

How often do we understand one another's grief?
And, when we do, by what standard can we measure it?
More especially is comprehension rare, if we chance to be the original cause of the trouble.

Do we think of the feelings of the beetles it is our painful duty to crush into nothingness?
Not at all.