h the trans-atlantic lanes at its mercy.
All those transports and freighters marked for destruction! Alden saved
the fat."

"Yes," Nora answered, "I gathered from what they said that he made sure
to-night somehow and faced her with it. That was when she screamed and
tried to send you out. Then her courage failed her and she called you
back. She wasn't strong enough for murder. And from her point of view
what she did was pure patriotism."

"It was because he suspected his wife, poor devil," Garth answered,
"that he'd tell me nothing. I guess he hoped I'd convince him he was
wrong."

He had been staring at the fire. He looked up now to find that Nora was
knitting complacently on something heavy and comfortable and grey. Her
eyes were thoughtful.

"Wife against husband," she mused. "Such tragedies are common in war.
And she loved him. Have you noticed the conservatory door?"

It stood open. Through the glass Garth could see the far sea, still
ruddy from the fire, and there entered again into his consciousness the
restless clamor of water.

"He made me open it," Nora went on. "He looked out there until he went
to sleep--a sort of farewell, a welcome if she should come back.
Perhaps she will some day."

Such devotion stirred anew in Garth the sensations he had experienced in
the conservatory. He watched Nora as her fingers moved with their
accustomed deftness about her knitting. She made the old picture,
lovable and tempting, of quiet, house-wifely efficiency.

"You always knit," he said in an uncertain voice.

"Another winter is very close," she answered gravely, "and if the peace
should be delayed there would be so much suffering--"

He stretched out his hand.

"Nora," he said huskily, "you've saved my life to-night. It's yours.
What will you do with it?"

She glanced up. She smiled a little.

"You very nearly took mine, Jim, so aren't we quits?"

CHAPTER X

THE COINS AND THE CHINAMAN

On their way to the station, and during their long journey to New York,
Nora drew back from any attempt of Garth's in the direction of
sentiment. Frequently he stared at her with a whimsical despair. It was
clear enough that he was not distasteful to her. He fancied, moreover,
that he had through his very persistence softened perceptibly the girl's
regret for Kridel; had remodeled to an extent her earlier attitude of a
widow. Would he, however, he asked himself, be able to go the whole way?

Now she wished to t