Van
Landing. Good dreams--good dreams!"
The door was closed softly, and under the bedclothes Van Landing again
buried his face in the pillows, and his lips twitched. Chance--was it
chance or was it God? If only God would give him a chance!
CHAPTER XII
He was too tired, too utterly relaxed by warmth and medicine, to think
clearly. To-morrow he would find Carmencita, and she should get the
things the children wanted. They were very strange, the places and
people he had seen to-day. Of course he had known about such places
and people, read about them, heard about them, but seeing for one's
self was different. There were a lot of bummers among these people he
had passed; much of their misery was of their own making (he had made
much of his), but the wonder was they were no worse.
Bold, bad faces, cold, pinched, hungry ones, eager, earnest, pathetic
and joyous, worn and weary, burdened and care-free, they again passed
before him, misty and ill-defined, as though the snow still veiled and
made them hazy, and none of them he knew. He wished they would stop
passing.
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