r sake I won't
have changed _mine_ when that time comes!"

On that he made a dramatic exit, with a mixture of stride and waddle
suited to one who felt that he had had the last word.

When he had gone, Denin finished his letter and forgot all about Mr.
Carl Pohlson Bradley. Also he forgot about luncheon. But that did not
matter, for his meals were movable feasts. He had them, or did not have
them, according to his mood, like the hermit he was becoming. Mr.
Bradley, however, he was forced to remember at short intervals, nearly
every day, while he lived through the time of waiting for the letter
promised in Barbara's cable. "Changed your mind yet?" the new owner of
the "Fay place" would yell from his huge automobile, spraying dust over
John Sanbourne on the white road to Santa Barbara. Or he would prowl,
grumbling, on the other side of the flower-draped barrier which
separated the Mirador garden from his newly acquired property. At last
he sent a lawyer to his irritating neighbor with a definite offer of
twenty thousand, five hundred dollars--just temptingly over the price
Sanbourne had said that he would not take. But Denin answered, "The
Mirador is my ewe lamb."

CHAPTER XIV

"When my mother was taken so desperately ill," Barbara wrote, "every
moment had to be for her, except those I could spare now and then for
the other invalid. I wanted to wire you; but to do that seemed to be
conceited, as if I took your personal interest in me very much for
granted. I knew you would be too kind to laugh at anything I did; but
perhaps, in spite of yourself, the idea might flash through your mind,
'Poor thing, she telegraphs because she has no time to write. She must
think I value her letters a lot!' This was just after you had said that
you wouldn't send me your photograph, you may remember. But no, why
_should_ you remember? You will recall it now, though, when I bring it
up to you again. And if you do, please don't think I was foolish and
small enough to be offended or piqued. I wasn't--oh, not for a moment.
I was only disappointed and a little--_let down_, if you know what I
mean. I felt as if I had been taking a liberty with the best and
kindest friend a girl or woman ever had, and laying myself open to be
misunderstood. I felt, if I followed up that request by cabling to you
that you mustn't expect letters for some time, it would be another
blunder. But oh, how I missed my friend!

"Two letters from you came to me,