She carried her old amethyst comb
home, but she did not show it to anybody. She
replaced it in its old compartment in her jewel-
case and thought of it with wonder, with a hint of
joy at regaining it, and with much sadness. She
was still fond of Viola Longstreet. Jane did not
easily part with her loves. She did not know where
Viola was. Margaret had inquired of Louisa, who
did not know. Poor Viola had probably drifted
into some obscure harbor of life wherein she was
hiding until life was over.
And then Jane met Viola one spring day on Fifth
Avenue.
"It is a very long time since I have seen you,"
said Jane with a reproachful accent, but her eyes
were tenderly inquiring.
"Yes," agreed Viola. Then she added, "I have
seen nobody. Do you know what a change has come
in my life?" she asked.
"Yes, dear," replied Jane, gently. "My Margaret
met Louisa once and she told her."
"Oh yes -- Louisa," said Viola. "I had to dis-
charge her. My money is about gone. I have only
just enough to keep the wolf from entering the door
of a hall bedroom in a respectable boarding-house.
However, I often hear him howl, but I do not mind
at all. In fact, the howling has become company
for me. I rather like it. It is queer what things one
can learn to like. There are a few left yet, like the
awful heat in summer, and the food, which I do not
fancy, but that is simply a matter of time.
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