Waiting alone in the frost-blue frock he had so often praised, with the sleazy smell of new-cut grass wafting in from outside, Sunflower, even lovelier — if possible — in her grief, thought once more of Senator Judas, the loving suitor she had turned so thoughtlessly away. He was now, according to the letter on the bureau, seeking a new life as a Foreign Legionnaire.
   Then, without any warning, came a knock at the door, and she somehow knew that her heart had been right all along. He was here! “Come to me, Diaphanous One!” he husked.
   Only in this moment of extremity could it have happened that the horror of these last months vanished in a blaze of joy, and as he dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief she herself had made for him, she realized thankfully that, in the end, things always work out really, really well.