Thurley went directly home instead of keeping a luncheon engagement with Ernestine. She wanted to spend the afternoon in remembering all he had said. The greatness of his vision and the new standard for art had not impressed her as much as the moment when he had taken her hands—or told of his false love. Then Miss Clergy’s promise crossed the clearness of her reflection, blurring it badly; Dan’s bucolic letter on her desk marred her thoughts as well—so did the flowers from Mark, the handsome gift book from some one else; a myriad of incidents and engagements came to spoil the reverie. As sacred to her as the v............