“She had had such friends. Heaven was growing into a very wealthy place for her. Mother and father not only, and sisters, and one precious brother. But a nearer one yet than all others, one whose name she was to have borne, had, within three weeks of the day when she was to have become his bride, crossed over to the other side and left her desolate. But that was twenty years ago. Miss Stafford lived to realize that young, healthy people do not die of grief, however much they might at times desire to do so.”


Pansy, Missent: The Story of a Letter
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Missent: The Story of a Letter Missent: The Story of a Letter by Pansy
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