In Golden Shackles #246050

The boy looked away from the kicking feet, as though the sight worried him, his eyes slowly glancing at the blue of the northern summer sky, at the white flowers and grey rocks, the peaks and green slopes bathed in the warm, rich glow Of the setting sun; then came back to the place where his Sister lay. Only his own little human figure was visible in that rosy, hushed solemnity. It was pathetic in the wistfulness of attitude and expres sion.