.

.

.
But if a man dying of thirst in the desert finds a pool--a pool of crystal water--is he to be blamed if he drinks--if he quenches his thirst for a moment?
He knows the pool is not his--never can he his.
And when the rightful owner comes along--why, he'll go away, back to the loneliness of the desert again.

But he'll always remember that his lips have once drunk from the pool--and been refreshed." Diana spoke very low and wistfully.
"He--he must go back to the desert ?" Errington bent his head.
"He must go back," he answered.

"The gods have decreed him outcast from life's pleasant places; he is ordained to wander alone--always." Diana drew her hand suddenly away from his, and the hasty movement knocked over the little silver salt-cellar on the table, scattering the salt on the cloth between them.
"Oh!" she cried, flushing with distress.