The moon and its broken reflection,
And its shadows shall appear,
As the symbol of love in heaven,
And its wavering image here.”
Listening to that irresistible voice singing her heart away, the girl broke down and wept. She was so young and so happy.
“Look up at me,” bade Mark Carson. “Oh, Pan! Pan! Those tears prove that you are white.”
Pan lifted her wet face.
“Kiss me, Pan,” said he. It was the first time.
Next morning Mark Carson began work on the special-feature article which he had been promising his paper for some weeks.