the tragedy of his youth and the lonely
rudderless course of his boyhood. She followed sympathetically to the
day when Dr. Hardy and his daughter Irene became guests at the Elden
ranch. And then her interest manifested something deeper than
sympathy. But he had become engrossed in his narrative. . . The
September day had drawn to a close, and the dusk was thick about them,
ere he reached the end. But before the end he stopped. Should he tell
her all? Why not? She had opened her life to him. So he told her of
that last evening with Irene, and the compact under the trees and the
moon. Her hand had fallen into his as they talked, but here he felt it
slowly withdrawn. But he was fired with the flame of love which had
sprung up in the breath of his reminiscence. . . And Edith was his
friend and his chum.

"And you have been true?" she said, but her voice was distant and
strained.

"Yes."

"And you are waiting for her?"

"Yes, I am waiting. . . It must be so." . . .

"It is cold," she said. "Let us go home."

CHAPTER TEN

Whatever the effect of this conversation had been upon Edith she
concealed it carefully, and Dave counted it one of the fortunate events
of his life. It had sealed to him a new friendship, a confidence to
support him in days of stress. He had been working under the spur of
his passion for Irene, but now this was to be supplemented by the
friendship of Edith. That it was more than friendship on her part did
not occur to him at all, but he knew she was interested in him, and he
was doubly determined that he would justify her interest and
confidence. He threw himself into the columns of _The Call_ with
greater vigour than ever.

But just at this time another incident occurred which was to turn the
flood of his life into strange channels. Dave had been promoted to the
distinction of a private office--a little six-by-six "box stall," as
the sports editor described it--but none the less a distinction shared
only with the managing editor and Bert Morrison, compiler of the
woman's page. Her name was Roberta, but she was masculine to the tips,
and everybody called her Bert. The remainder of the staff occupied a
big, dingy room, with walls pasted with specimen headings, comic
cartoons, and racy pictures, and floor carpeted deeply with exchanges.
Dave, however, had established some sort of order in his den, and had
installed at his own cost a spring lock to prevent depredations upo