"You know what it is that's missing." Ah! could not a woman also know the longing, the vacancy, the solitude of an Eden incomplete! She turned to him trembling, her lips half open, as though to welcome a long-hoped-for draught of happiness.
Alas! it was not happiness, but misery that came; for Constance Ellsworth now got taste of those bitter waters of life which are withheld from none.

There was a sound of a distant shout--the chance call of some drunken reveller--far down the street, a tawdry, unimportant incident, but enough to break a spell, to destroy an illusion, to awaken a conscience for a man, if that phrase be just.
Dan Anderson turned to look down the long street of Heart's Desire.
It was as though the physical act restored him to another realm, another mental world.

He started, and half shivered as his hand dropped to his side.

His face showed haggard even in the moonlight.
"My God! what am I saying ?" he murmured to himself.
Then presently he drew himself up, smiling bitterly.

"Some prominent citizens of the place enjoying themselves," he said and nodded toward the street.