they are ... yours. And I don't want anything of yours
destroyed, Hoddy. Those were dreams."

"All right, then." He shifted the pages together, rolled and thrust
them under her arm. "But don't ever let me see them again. By
George, I forgot! McClintock said there was a typewriter in the
office and that I could have it. I'll dig it up. I'll be feeling
fine in no time. The office is a sight--not one sheet of paper on
another; bills and receipts everywhere. I'll have to put some pep
into the game--American pep. It will take a month to clean up. I've
been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!"

She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her
wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end--in
the veranda chair. All this--the island and its affairs--was an old
story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point
imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's
eyes, as in the future she would see all things.

For Ruth was in love, tenderly and beautifully in love; but she did
not know how to express it beyond the fetch and carry phase. Her
heart ached; and that puzzled her. Love was joy, and joyous she was
when alone. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity
encompassed her.

The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of
something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the
desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone." Man
is a peculiar animal. No matter what the fire and force of his
passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes
out. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman
always has the mother love. When the disillusion comes, when the
fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't
mind. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but
he is no longer a man but a child.

A dog appeared unexpectedly upon the threshold. He was yellow and
coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and
wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of
these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things.

"Well, well; look who's here!" cried Spurlock.

He started toward the dog with the idea of ejecting him, but Ruth
intervened.

"No, please! It is good luck for a dog to enter your house. Let me
keep him."

"What? Good Lord, he's alive with fleas! They'll be all over the
place."

"Please