The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. Once more he was the searcher. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. . “Does a bear shit in the woods?” He said. The old lady in the antimacassar said, abruptly, “Ah! you young people, you young people, if you only knew!” and then laughed and then mused in a marked manner; and the young man with the narrow forehead and glasses cleared his throat and asked the young man in the orange tie whether he believed that Platonic love was possible.
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