“Oh, there you are! Look!”
Ashurst rose, took his wife's sketch, and stared at it in silence.
“Is the foreground right, Frank?”
“Yes.”
“But there's something wanting, isn't there?”
Ashurst nodded. Wanting? The apple tree, the singing, and the gold!
And solemnly he put his lips to her forehead. It was his silver-wedding day. 1916
THE JURYMAN
“Don't you see, brother, I was reading yesterday the Gospel
about Christ, the little Father; how He suffered, how He walked
on the earth. I suppose you have heard about it?”
“Indeed, I have,” replied Stepanuitch; “but we are people in
darkness; we can't read.”—TOLSTOI.