“What is the use? Sooner or later he will learn that his desert flame is still burning.” At this juncture, Grace rose and replaced the message within the envelope, sealing it carefully once more. Yes, it would be for the best if she turned it over to its rightful owner. With that thought in mind she sought the comfort of her pillows. The next morning, however, the good resolution of the night before had paled. Grace seized upon the letter and striking a match soon reduced Sana’s message to a little heap of black fragments, saying with a bitter laugh “Here goes Carl’s flame like the will-of-the-whisp, flitting over the ground in its misleading way, lasting but a little while.” But Grace could not alter the ways of Fate or Destiny! She might stave them off for the while, but all her plans and wiles could not prevent them from eventually rushing past her and on to the predestined goal. The days rolled by and still Grace bore her grudge against Carl. In what strange actions love chooses to express itself! And yet--did not the great Alexander burn Persepolis, the Gem of the East, in order to satisfy the whim of Thaïs, the courtesan? Did not Antony lose the world to follow in the footsteps of her who fled in vain back to her lost empire--Cleopatra? Yes, these are the ways of love and strange ways they are. Grace assumed an outward attitude that did not correspond with her feelings within. Whenever Carl addressed her she replied in a kindly, gracious tone, without hint of the madness that was eating away her soul. Carl appeared to be more business like and calculating than before. Often there were times when she longed to tell him her innermost feelings, but she could not bring herself to the point of doing so. And then Fate took a hand. What had brought Carl to the office so early that morning? Why should he have been there in the outer office when the postman delivered a second letter from Sana? Grace asked herself these questions as reluctantly she passed the letter over to Carl. He took it mechanically and not recognizing Sana’s writing, laid the missive aside for a few moments while he took up duties of greater importance to him than any personal letter possibly could be. His evident non-recognition of the missive struck Grace rather forcibly as she watched him closely from her desk. No opportunity presented itself whereby she could secure this letter, and much to her chagrin she was obliged to watch Carl at last pick it up for reading. He studied the stamp and the postmark, and as he did so became very restless, excitably so and with more than eager fingers he tore open the envelope. A small slip of paper fluttered to the floor. Eagerly he stooped to pick it up. Unfolding it his surprised eyes were confronted with-- HERE LIES MY BELOVED SANA VON SECKT REST IN PEACE CARL