ally, dissolved altogether, it
became one with the dark.

CHAPTER IX

_Dawn_

Donaldson took a cold dip and then carefully dressed himself in fresh
clothes. Sleep was out of the question. He had never in his life felt
more alert in mind and body. He felt as though he could walk farther,
hear farther, see farther than ever before. He was more keenly
responsive to the perfume of the roses which were now drooping a bit
languidly near the window; he was more alive to the delicate traceries
of the ferns which banked one corner of the room; more appreciative of
the little marine which he had hung near his dresser and--more alive to
her into whose life Fate had picked him up and hurled him. He felt the
warm pressure of her fingers as though they still rested within his;
saw the marvelous quiet beauty of her eyes which had led him so far
back into his past. Again out of this past they led him on--on to--he
was checked as in his picture of her the ticking clock behind her
intruded itself. There stood the sentinel to whom he must give heed.
There stood the warning finger pointing to the seventh noon.

Good Lord, he must have more room. He must get out into the dawn--out
where he could share these emotions which now surged in upon him with
some virginal passion as big and fresh as the new-born day. He crossed
to the window and looked out upon the dormant city. The morning light
was just beginning to wash out the dark and to sketch in the outlines
of buildings and the gray path of the road between them. He watched
the new creation of a world. Around him lay a million souls ready to
people it--ready to seize it and make it a part of themselves. In a
few hours that dim street would be a bridge over which tens of
thousands of people would pass to sorrow, to joy; to poverty, to
riches; to hate, to love; to death, to life. That was a drama worth
looking at. He must get out and rub shoulders with those who were
playing their parts. He, too, must play his part in it.

He descended to the office and left instructions with the night clerk
to insist upon a message from whoever might call him up. He would be
back, he said, in an hour. He had not walked long before he found the
city gently astir with life. Passing cars were soon well filled,
traffic fretted the streets lately so quiet, while yawning pedestrians
reminded him that there were still those who slept. At the end of
thirty minutes more of brisk walking