The wind was malicious that day, accompanied by a torrent of snow; he kept his eyes downcast, half-covered by dark curls. What was there to see? All Marius needed, he already had. Only the delightful memory of a white crepe hat and smiling face ... the imagined voice that might have been hers ... these kept him company, and all else was dark.

Then -- ah! a glimmer of light, just faint -- Marius raised his head, hopeful. The familiar cape, brown locks he thought he knew ... then one face moved into view, and another fell back into darkness. It was not She.