ught of it since. It was a queer look. I believe
that man _knew_. And wanted to help me.

"But I didn't want to be helped. Nothing could help. I just wanted to get
away--have it over. So I hurried on--across your Island--though I didn't
know--just looking for a place--a way. Just to have it all over."

She changed on that, relaxed. Her eyes closed. "To have it all over," she
repeated in a whisper. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Doesn't
that ever seem to you a beautiful thing?"

His eyes were wet. "Not any more," he whispered. "Not now."

"Then again I saw water--the other side of the Island." She went back to
it with an effort, exhausted. "I ran. I wanted to get there. Have it all
over--before anything else could happen. I couldn't _look_--but I kept
saying to myself it would only be a minute--only a minute--then it would
be all over--not so bad as having things happen--being alone--afraid--"

She shuddered--drew back--living it--realizing it. Her
visioning--realizing--had gone on beyond her words, beyond the events.
She was shuddering as if the water were actually closing over her. But
again she was called back by Katie's voice and that look he felt he
should not be seeing went as a faint smile formed on her lips. "Then
Katie. Katie calling to me. Dear Katie--pretending.

"I didn't want to go. I thought it was just something else. And oh how I
wanted to get it all over!" She sobbed. "But I saw it was a girl. Sick. I
wasn't able to help going--and then--Well, you know. Katie. How she
fooled me. And saved me."

She looked up at him, again the suggestion of a smile on her
colorless lips. "Was there ever anybody in the world so wonderful--so
funny--as Katie?

"But at first I couldn't believe in her. I thought it must be just
something else." She stopped, looking at him. "Why I think it wasn't till
after I met _you_ I felt sure it couldn't be--"

His arm about her tightened. He drew her closer to him. He was shaken by
a deep sob.

And so she rested, lax, murmuring about things that had happened,
sometimes smiling faintly as she recalled them. The terror had gone, as
if, as she had known, telling it to him had freed her. That twisted,
unlovely look which he had tried not to see, loving her too well to wish
to see it, had gone. She was worn, but lovely. She was resting. At peace.

And so many minutes passed when she would not speak--resting, rescued.
And then she would whisper of little things that had