kissed her, and they were both very, very, happy.

So it was that, in the quiet secrecy of her dimly lighted room, the
woman who that night knew herself to be a woman, felt her cheeks hot
with blushes and upon her hot cheeks felt her tears.

So it was that she came back from her Yesterdays to wonder: where was
the boy now? What kind of a man had he grown to be? Was he making his
way to fame and wealth or laboring in some humble position? Had he a
home with wife and children? Did he ever go back into the Yesterdays?
Had he forgotten that wedding under the cherry tree? When the one with
whom she would go through the old, old, door into the life of her
womanhood dreams should come, would it matter if the hero of her
childhood dreams went in with them? He could be no rival to that one
who was to come for he lived only in the Yesterdays and the Yesterdays
could not come back. The fat little cupid on the mantle neglected his
bow and arrows in vain; he could not do away with time.

Very slowly the woman prepared for her rest and, when she was ready,
knelt in the soft dusk of her room, a virgin in white to pray. And
God, I know, understood why her prayer was confused and uncertain with
longings she could not express even to him who said: "Except ye become
as little children." God, I know, understood why this woman, who that
night, for the first time, knowing herself to be a woman had dreamed a
true woman's dream--God, I know, understood why, as she lay down to
sleep in the quiet darkness, she stretched forth her empty arms and
almost cried aloud.

In to-morrow's light it would all be gone, but that night--that
night--her womanhood dreams of the future were real--real even as the