hite-fenced spot with its great
centre cross, grey and weather-beaten, and all its smaller crosses
clustering round. There was warmth here, the warmth of sun upon a
western slope. There was life, too, the natural life of grass and vine,
the cheerful noise of birds and squirrels and bees. And, for color,
there were harmonies in all the browns and greens and yellows of the
rocky soil.

"Let us sit here. They won't mind. They are all sleeping so happily,"
Desire had declared. "And the crosses make it seem like one large
family--see how that wild rose vine has spread itself over a whole
group of graves! It is so friendly."

Spence had fallen in with her humor, and had come indeed to love this
place where even the sun paused lingeringly before the mountains
swallowed it up.

This afternoon he flung himself down beside their favorite rose-vine
with the comfortable sense of well-being which comes with returning
health. Even more than Desire, he wondered that he had ever hesitated
before an arrangement so eminently satisfying. If ever events had
justified an impulse, his impulse, he felt, had been justified. He
stole a glance at Desire as she sat in pleasant silence gazing into the
sunset. She was happier already, and younger. Something of that hard
maturity was fading from her eyes--the tiny dented corners of her lips
were softer.... Oh, undoubtedly he had done the right thing! And
everything had run so smoothly. There had been no trouble. No unlocked
for Nemesis had dogged his steps even in the matter of that small
strategy concerning his unhappy past. He had been unduly worried about
that, owing probably to early copy-book aphorisms. Honesty is the best
policy. Yes, but--nothing had happened. Mary, bless her, was already
only a memory. She had played her part and slipped back into the void
from whence she came. He could forget her very name with impunity. A
faint smile testified to a conscience lulled to warm security.

But security is a dangerous thing. It tempts the fates. Even while our
strategist smiled, the girl who sat so silently beside him was
wondering about that smile--and other things. He was much better, she
reflected, if he could find his passing thoughts amusing. Amusement at
one's own fancies is a healthy sign. And today she had noticed, also,
that his laziness was almost natural. Perhaps it might be safe now to
say what she had made up her mind should be said. But not too abruptly.
When next she spoke it