vently, "you are sure of. Remember, Ruth,
that awful black month and what we suffered together. And you knew
nothing about me. I just found you sitting on the stairs with your
broken stick, waiting for some one to come and help you."

She nodded.

"And you picked me up and carried me into your room," she reminded
him. "You didn't have to stop and take breath as Isaac has to."

"Why, no," he admitted, "I couldn't say you were heavy, dear. Some
day or other, though," he added, "you will be. Don't lose your
faith, Ruth. Don't let either of us leave off looking for the
ships."

She smiled.

"Very well," she said, letting her hand fall once more softly into
his, "I think that I am very foolish. I think that yours has come
already, dear, and I am worse than foolish, I am selfish, because I
once hoped that they might come together; that you and I might sit
here, Arnold, hand in hand, and watch them with great red sails, and
piles and piles of gold and beautiful things, with our names written
on so big that we could read them even here from the window."

She burst into a peal of laughter.

"Oh, those children's days! What an escape they, were for us in the
black times! Do you know that we once actually told one another
fairy stories?"

"Not only that but we believed in them," he insisted. "I am
perfectly certain that the night you found my star, and it seemed to
us to keep on getting bigger and bigger while we looked at it, that
from that night things have been getting better with me."

"At least," she declared, abruptly, "I am not going to spoil your
dinner by keeping you here talking nonsense. Carry me back, please,
Arnold. You must hurry up now and change your clothes. And, dear,
you had better not come in and wish me good-night. Isaac went out
this morning in one of his savage tempers, and he may be back at any
moment. Carry me back now, and have a beautiful evening. To-morrow
you must tell me all about it."

He obeyed her. She was really only a trifle to lift, as light as
air. She clung to him longingly, even to the last minute.

"And now, please, you are to kiss my forehead," she said, "and run
away."

"Your forehead only?" he asked, bending over her.

"My forehead only, please," she begged gravely. "The other doesn't
go with our fairy stories, dear. I want to go on believing in the
fairy stories...."

Arnold had little enough time to dress, and he descended the stone
steps towards the street at someth