” “The real, identical other,” said Capes, and took and bit the tip of her little finger. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. Traci moved out to L.
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