Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/21

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Some of the despair, too, had faded from Soma's features as he sat down at the table to write a letter to his mother, as was his custom every Sunday. He wrote on and on, ending his letter with-"Don't worry, Mother dear. I am well, and soon I expect to be married. She is a fine girl, good and de- voted. I will tell you more when I write you again. Love and kisses-Soma."

But as he sealed the envelope he felt uneasy. What have I written to my mother-a lie? I lied to my mother! He got up, and started pacing around the room. As he approached the window and saw the bright sunshine, he calmed down. The lie seemed somehow to take on the aspect of a deeper truth.

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