“I’ve heard so much of Mrs. Fortinbras,” said Martin, “that I seem to know her intimately.”
A smile of great tenderness and sadness crept into Fortinbras’s eyes as he turned them on his daughter.
“It is good that you still think and speak so much of her. Ideals keep the soul winged for flight. If it flies away into the empyrean and comes to grief like Icarus and his later fellow pioneers in aviation, at least it has done something.”
He released her and she sped away on her duties. Presently she returned with a scared face.
“Monsieur Martin, what has happened? Here is Corinna going to leave us this morning.”
“Corinna going? Does she know I’m here?” asked Fortinbras in wonderment.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. I did not dream that she was up—she generally rises so late. But she ha
