The girl went out, and the door shut behind her.  Julie lay on still for a little, and then she got up.  She walked to the window and looked out, and she threw her arms wide with a gesture, and shut her eyes, and let the sun fall on her.  Then she walked to her little trunk, and rummaged in it.  From somewhere far down she drew out a leather case, and with it in her hand she went over and sat by the fire.  She held it without moving for a minute, and then she slowly opened it.  One by one she drew out a few worthless things—­a withered bunch of primroses, a couple of little scribbled notes, a paper cap from a cracker, a menu card, a handkerchief of her own that she had lent to him, and that he (just like Peter) had given back.  She held them all in her hand a minute, and then she bent forward and dropped them in the open fire.

And the sun rose a little higher, and fell on the tumbled brown hair that Peter had kissed and that now hid her eyes.