" He believed
vaguely in a Power, which, with designs as to human destinies, manifests
its intentions by fitful gleams, vouchsafed somewhat erratically. In this
way Evie Colfax, as a beautiful, fairy-like child, had been revealed to
him at the most critical instant of his life. His mind had never hitherto
gone back willingly to recollections of that night; but now he made the
excursion into the past with a certain amount of pleasure. He could see
her still, looking at a picture-book, her face resting on the back of her
hand, and golden ringlets falling over her bare arm. He could see the
boy, too. He remembered that his name was Billy. Billy who? he wondered.
He could hear the sweet, rather fretful voice calling from the shadows:
"Evie dear, it's time to go to bed. Billy, I don't believe they let you
stay up as late as this at home."
How ridiculous it would have been to remember such trivial details all
these years if something hadn't been "meant" by it. There was a hint in
the back of his mind that by the same token something might have been
"meant" about the Wild Olive, too, but he had not an equal temptation to
dwell on it.
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