’ For the first time since she had heard the news, Mrs Sindlesham’s features relaxed and a tiny smile appeared. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Everything in this world changed—except human folly. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. She gloried in it: he needed her. She twisted her fingers tightly. And not a worthy tome in sight. Wagstaff.
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