n't Jim. No, I have not thought it
over. This isn't something you think. It is something that comes to
you when you don't think, or in spite of your thinking. But it's
real--more real than anything you can touch or handle--more real than
these bars, which are not so close as you seem to fancy--"

And then, between the iron rods across the open window, his lips met
hers.

..."And you were seeking life, Beulah," he said at last. "Life that
you should live in your own way, for the joy of living it. And--"

"And I have found it," she answered, in a voice low and thrilling
with tenderness. "I have found it in you. We shall work out our
destiny together, but we must keep our thought on the destiny, rather
than the work. Oh, Jim, I'm just dying to see your homestead--our
homestead. And are there two windows? We must have two windows,
Jim--one in the east for the sun, and one in the west for the
mountains."

"Our house is all window, as yet," he answered gaily. "And there
isn't as much as a fence post to break the view."

"What are you doing here?" said a sharp voice, and Beulah felt as
though her tin box were suddenly sinking into a great abyss. She
turned with a little gasp. Sergeant Grey stood within arm's length of
her.

"Oh, it's Sergeant Grey," she said, with a tone of relief. "I am
Beulah Harris. And I've just been getting myself engaged to your
prisoner here. Oh, it's not so awful as you think. You see, we knew
each other in Manitoba, and we've really been engaged for quite a
while, but he didn't know it until to-night."

For a moment the policeman retained his reserve. He remembered the
girl, who had already cost him a deflected glance, and he reproached
himself that he could doubt her even as he doubted, but how could he
know that she had not been passing in firearms or planning a release?

"What she says is right, sergeant," said Travers. "She has just
broken the news to me, and I'm the happiest man in Canada, jail or no
jail."

There was no mistaking the genuine ring in Travers' voice, and the
policeman was convinced. "Most extraordinary," he remarked, at
length, "but entirely natural on your part, I must say. I
congratulate you, sir." The officer had not forgotten the girl who
clung to his arm the morning before. "Hang me, sir," he continued,
"there's luck everywhere but in the Mounted Police."

He unlocked the door of the cell. "I ought to search you," he said to
Beulah, "but if you'll give me your w