elf
walking down the street, alone in silence at last. He took a car to the
ocean beach, and far into the night sat on the rocks watching the dark
play of the rolling Pacific, and listening to the steady rush and fall
of the water.

The next day he saw his wife's mother, and at the sight of her
frightened, fat little face, and the sound of the high voice he knew so
well, the last shred of his anger and disgust vanished, and he could
only pity her. He remembered how welcome she had made him to the little
cottage in Plumas, those long years ago; how she had laughed at his
youthful appreciation of her Sunday fried chicken and cherry pie, and
the honest tears she had shed when he went, with the dimpled Hetty
beside him, to tell her her daughter was won. She was Billy's
grandmother, after all, and she had at least seen that Hetty was
protected all through her misguided little career from the breath of
scandal, and that Hetty's last days were made comfortable and serene.
He assured her gruffly that it was "all right," and she presently
brightened, and told him through tears that he was a "king," when it
was finally arranged that she should go on drawing the rents of the
Mission Street property for the rest of her life. She and Mrs. Smiley
persuaded him to dine with them, and he thought it quite characteristic
of "Aunt Ide" to make a little occasion of it, and take them to a
certain favored little French restaurant for the meal. But Mrs. Smiley
was tremulous with gratitude and relief, Russell's face was radiant,
his adoring eyes all for Barry, and Barry, always willing to accept a
situation gracefully, really enjoyed his dinner.

He stayed in San Francisco another day and went to Hetty's grave, high
up in the Piedmont Hills, and took a long lonely tramp above the
college town afterward. Early the next morning he started for home,
fresh from a bath and a good breakfast, and feeling now, for the first
time, that he was free, and that it was good to be free--free to work
and to plan his life, and free, his innermost consciousness exulted to
realize, to go to her some day, the Lady of his Heart's Desire, and
take her, with all the fragrance and beauty that were part of her, into
his arms. And oh, the happy years ahead; he seemed to feel the
sweetness of spring winds blowing across them, and the glow of winter
fires making them bright! What of her fabulous wealth, after all, if he
could support her as she chose to live, a simple