ocial unrest, of political
upheavals, of commercial greed. In this hidden land of Olaf's would be
life stripped of its sordidness, love free from the blight of cynicism
and disillusion--faith, firm in its nearness to God and the wonder of
His works. I envied Olaf his hidden land as I envied Nancy her
opportunity. My blood is the same as Nancy's, and I love the sea. And as
we grow older our souls adventure!

When Nancy came in to me, she had put on her white _peignoir_, and she
had Olaf's letter in her hand.

"Ducky," she said, and her voice shook, "I have read it twice--and--I
shouldn't dare to think he was in earnest."

"Why not?"

"I should want to go, Elizabeth."

"And leave the world behind you?"

"Oh, I haven't any world. It might be different if mother were alive, or
daddy. There'd be only you, Ducky, my dear, dear Ducky." She caught my
hand and held it.

"And Anthony--"

"Anthony would get over it"--sharply. "Wouldn't he, Elizabeth? You know
he would."

"My dear, I don't know."

"But I know. If I hadn't been in his life, Mimi Sears would have been,
just as Bob Needham would have been in my life if it hadn't been for
Anthony. There isn't any question between Anthony and me of--one woman
for one man. You know that, Elizabeth. But with Olaf--if he doesn't have
me, there will be no one else--ever. He--he will go sailing on--alone--"

"My dear, how do you know?"

She flung herself down beside me, a white rose, all fragrance. "I don't
know"--she began to cry. "How silly I am," she sobbed against my
shoulder. "I--I don't know anything about him, do I, Elizabeth--? But it
would be wonderful to be loved--like that."

All through the night she slept on my arm, with her hand curled in the
hollow of my neck as she had slept as a child. But I did not sleep. My
mind leaped forward into the future, and I saw my world without her.

* * * * *

Nancy stayed with me through September. Anthony's holiday was up the
day after the garden party, and he went back to Boston, keeping touch
with Nancy in the modern way by wire, special delivery, and
long-distance telephone.

It was on a stormy night with wind and beating rain that Nancy told me
Anthony was insisting that she marry him in December.

"But I can't, Elizabeth. I am going to write to him to-night."

"When will it be?"

"Who knows? I--I'm not ready. If he can't wait--he can let me go."

She did not stay to listen to my com