He changed his mind when he saw the photograph in its newspaper wrapping on the table.

In another moment it was in his hands.

Now, with day in the room, the sun shining, he expected to see a change.

But there was no change in her; she was there, as he had left her last night; the question was in her eyes, unspoken words still on her lips.

Then, suddenly, it swept upon him where he had been in those first hours of peaceful slumber that had come to him--beside a quiet, dark pool--gently whispering forests about him--an angel standing close to him, on a rock, shrouded in her hair--watching over him.