ught the negro's introspective
eyes.

A girl was passing; a girl in a yellow dress was passing the Renfrew
gate. Even then Peter would not have wavered in his synthesis had not
the girl paused slightly and given a swift side glance at the old manor.
Then the man in the window recognized Cissie Dildine.

A slight shock traveled through Siner's body at the sight of Cissie's
colorless face and darkened eyes. He stood up abruptly, with a feeling
that he had some urgent thing to say to the young woman. His sharp
movement toppled over the big globe.

The crash caused the girl to stop and look. For a moment they stood
thus, the girl in the chill street, the man in the pleasant window,
looking at each other. Next moment Cissie hurried on up the village
street toward the Arkwright house. No doubt she was on her way to cook
the noon meal.

Peter remained standing at the window, with a heavily beating heart. He
watched her until she vanished behind a wing of the shrubbery in the
Renfrew yard.

When she had gone, he looked at his books and cards, sat down, and tried
to resume his indexing. But his mind played away from it like a restive
horse. It had been two weeks since he last saw Cissie. Two weeks.... His
nerves vibrated like the strings of a pianoforte. He had scarcely
thought of her during the fortnight; but now, having seen her, he found
himself powerless to go on with his work. He pottered a while longer
among the books and cards, but they were meaningless. They appeared an
utter futility. Why index a lot of nonsense? Somehow this recalled his
flare, his adumbration of some great idea connected with young Arkwright
and the old Captain, and the South.

He put his trembling nerves to work, trying to recapture his line of
thought. He sat for ten minutes, following this mental train, then that,
losing one, groping for another. His thoughts were jumpy. They played
about Arkwright, the Captain, Cissie, his mother's death, Tump Pack in
prison, the quarrel between the Persimmon and Jim Pink Staggs. The whole
of Niggertown came rushing down upon him, seizing him in its passion and
dustiness and greasiness, putting to flight all his cultivated white-man
ideas.

After half an hour's searching he gave it up. Before he left the room he
stooped, and tried to set up again the globe that the passing of the
girl had caused him to throw down; but its pivot was out of plumb, and
he had to lean it against the window-seat.

The sight