"A while ago," she volunteered, "I had neither friends nor relatives."
He gave her a queer look, then. "I had no money. I had been hurt in an
accident and was almost helpless. But I did not despair, sir--and I am
only an inexperienced girl.

"In my darkest hour I found friends--kind, loving friends--who showed
me a new world that I had not suspected was in existence. I think
the world is like a great mirror," she continued, meditatively, "and
reflects our lives just as we ourselves look upon it. Those who turn
sad faces toward the world find only sadness reflected. But a smile is
reflected in the same way, and cheers and brightens our hearts. You
think there is no pleasure to be had in life. That is because you are
heartsick and--and tired, as you say. With one sad story ended you are
afraid to begin another--a sequel--feeling it would be equally sad.
But why should it be? Isn't the joy or sorrow equally divided in
life?"

"No," he replied.

"A few days ago," she continued earnestly, "we were crossing the
Arizona deserts. It was not pleasant, but we did not despair, for
we knew the world is not all desert and that the land of roses and
sunshine lay just beyond. Now that we're in California we've forgotten
the dreary desert. But you--Why, sir, you've just crossed your desert,
and you believe all the world is bitter and cruel and holds no joy for
you! Why don't you step out bravely into the roses and sunshine of
life, and find the joy that has been denied you?"

He looked into her eyes almost fearfully, but it seemed to her that
his own held a first glimmer of hope.