he glory of it before. It was the
feeling in her that is in me now--that is in all America--only ours is
for America, and hers was for Mexico--as yours is."

"When I look at you, and know the tenderness of you, and the great heart
of you, I feel that America must be the heaven of all the world, and
Americans the angels." Then Marie's face darkened, and her lips became a
scarlet line. "But who then has stood heartlessly by, and watched the
writhing and anguish of my Mexico, withholding the hand of power that
could bring peace? Who has stood by and smiled while Mexico lay crushed
and bleeding beneath the heel of despotism and treachery?"

"We haven't understood, Marie," begged Eveley. "We could not understand.
We--we naturally trust people, we are like that, you know, and--"

"And whom can one trust? My faith has been as my faith in God--yet when
so many falter, and then turn back in betrayal--how can one trust?
Perhaps we are all deceived--perhaps every faction in my country is
seeking only to despoil and enslave." Then her face grew bright and
luminous as she said, "But there are those who are princes of sacrifice
and love, risking all their world, their lives, their honor, for my
Mexico. If there be any faith, it is in them. You call them bandits--Yes?
I call them sons of God."

Eveley changed the subject as quickly as she could. The bandits who had
been driven desperately from crag to cranny, berated in the press,
denounced in the pulpit, deprecated on the platform--were these the
princes of Marie's Mexico, the idols of their women's hearts, the saviors
of their faith, their hope of freedom? It was very confusing.

She told Marie how she worked every day down-town, and how the little
Cloud Cote would be her own all day, how she had friends coming often in
the evening, friends who would love Marie, but whom she never need to see
except when her heart desired. And she told of the lovely lawn, with its
pavilions and pergolas and crevices and vines, and of the canyon drifting
away down to the bay.

And Marie sat with her chin in her hands, her eyes soft and humble,
dog-like, on Eveley's face.

CHAPTER XV

SERVICE OF JOY

It was not often that Eileen Trevis, who was manifestly born for
business, waxed hysterically enthusiastic. And so one morning a few days
later, when an incoherent summons came from her over the telephone,
Eveley was astonished almost to the point of speechlessness.

"What is it?" she