He had not yet reached that stage of absorbing passion
where he was able to put the loved one in his own surroundings; she
as yet had no place in this quiet room; he could scarcely think of
her here, and he MUST think of her, if he had to go elsewhere. An
extravagant idea of walking the street until his restless dream was over
seized him, but even in his folly the lackadaisical, moonstruck quality
of such a performance was too obvious. The school-house! He would go
there; it was only a pleasant walk, the night was lovely, and he could
bring the myrtle-spray from his desk. It was too significant now--if not
too precious--to be kept there. Perhaps he had not examined it closely,
nor the place where it had lain; there might be an additional sign,
word, or token he had overlooked. The thought thrilled him, even while
he was calmly arguing to himself that it was an instinct of caution.
The air was quieter and warmer than usual, though still characteristic
of the locality in its dry, dewless clarity. The grass was yet warm
from the day-long sun, and when he entered the pines that surrounded
the schoolhouse, they had scarcely yet lost their spicy heat.
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