‘Is it worth it?’ he asked at last. ” “You talk strangely, Anna,” he said. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ” “You are,” he answered unconsciously. "God in Heaven bless you, unhappy boy!" cried. “In the end,” it seemed to be thinking, “they embalmed me with the utmost respect—sound spices chosen to endure—the best! I took my world as I found it.
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