hat, Lucy. Is it Elizabeth Wheeler, do you think?"

"Yes."

For a moment there was silence. The canary in its cage hopped about, a
beady inquisitive eye now on one, now on the other of them.

"She's a good girl, Lucy."

"That's not the point, is it?"

"Do you think she cares for him?"

"I don't know. There's some talk of Wallie Sayre. He's there a good
bit."

"Wallie Sayre!" snorted David. "He's never done a day's work in his
life and never will." He reflected on that with growing indignation. "He
doesn't hold a candle to Dick. Of course, if the girl's a fool--"

Hands thrust deep into his pockets David took a turn about the room.
Lucy watched him. At last:

"You're evading the real issue, David, aren't you?"

"Perhaps I am," he admitted. "I'd better talk to him. I think he's got
an idea he shouldn't marry. That's nonsense."

"I don't mean that, exactly," Lucy persisted. "I mean, won't he want a
good many things cleared up before he marries? Isn't he likely to want
to go back to Norada?"

Some of the ruddy color left David's face. He stood still, staring at
her and silent.

"You know he meant to go three years ago, but the war came, and--"

Her voice trailed off. She could not even now easily recall those days
when Dick was drilling on the golf links, and that later period of
separation.

"If he does go back--"

"Donaldson is dead," David broke in, almost roughly.

"Maggie Donaldson is still living."

"What if she is? She's loyal to the core, in the first place. In the
second, she's criminally liable. As liable as I am."

"There is one thing, David, I ought to know. What has become of the
Carlysle girl?"

"She left the stage. There was a sort of general conviction she was
implicated and--I don't know, Lucy. Sometimes I think she was." He
sighed. "I read something about her coming back, some months ago, in
'The Valley.' That was the thing she was playing the spring before
it happened." He turned on her. "Don't get that in your head with the
rest."

"I wonder, sometimes."

"I know it."

Outside the slamming of an automobile door announced Dick's return, and
almost immediately Minnie rang the old fashioned gong which hung in the
lower hall. Mrs. Crosby got up and placed a leaf of lettuce between the
bars of the bird cage.

"Dinner time, Caruso," she said absently. Caruso was the name Dick had
given the bird. And to David: "She must be in her thirties now."

"Probably." Then his anger and