onable--humanity--worn humanity--as it crossed that bridge.

She recalled that first night she had talked with him--that first time a
hot day had seemed to her anything more than mere hot day, that night on
the Mississippi--where distant hills were to be seen. She remembered how
she had looked around the world that night to see if it needed "saving."
It seemed a long time ago since she had not been able to see that the
world needed saving.

That was the night the man who mended the boats told her she had walked
sunny paths. She looked up at him with a faint smile, smiling at the
fancy of his being an outsider.

It seemed, on the other hand, that all the hopes and fears in all the
hearts that were passing them were drawing them together. There had been
times when she had had a wonderful sense of their silences holding the
sum of man's experiences.

"You must go home," he was saying decisively.

"Home? Where? To my uncle's? That's where I keep the trunks I'm
not using."

She laughed and brushed away a tear. "You know in the army we don't
have homes."

"Well you have temporary homes," he insisted, as each moment she seemed
to become more worn. "You know what I mean. Go back to your brother's."

"He'll be ordered from there very soon. There'll not be a place there for
me much longer."

He did not seem to have reckoned with that. His face changed. "Then where
will you go, Katie?" he asked, very low. "What will you do?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know where I'll go--and I
don't know what I'll do."

They stood there in silence, drawn close by thought of separation.

"Shall we walk on?" she said at last. "I've lost the feeling that we're
going to find Ann to-night."

And so, still silently, they walked on.

But when, after a moment, he looked at her, it was to see that she
was making heroic effort to control the tears. "Katie!" he murmured,
"what is it?"

"We're giving up," she said, and could not say more.

"Why no we're not! It's only the method we're giving up. This way of
doing it. You've tried this long enough."

"But what else is there? Just looking. Just keeping on looking--and
hoping. Just the chance. What other method is there?"

"We'll find some other," he insisted, not willing, when she looked like
that, to speak his fears. "There'll be some other way. But you can't keep
on this way--dear."

There was another silence--a different one: silence which opened to
receive them at t