n the dark."

"And I----" but Nancy did not finish her sentence--she had found her
heart's desire.

"I'm not worthy," murmured Raymond, pressing the light hair with his
lips.

"Neither am I. We'll grow worthy together. It's like finding a beautiful
thing we both were seeking. It isn't you or I--alone--it is something
outside us that we are going to make--ours."

Spiritually Raymond got upon his knees, humanly he pressed the girl
close.

"It's--you--the Thing is--_you_" he whispered, and at that moment knew
the last, definite difference between what he now felt and--all that had
gone before.

CHAPTER XXI

"_To suffer sets a keen edge on what remains of the agreeable. This is a
great truth that has to be learned in the fire._"

It was all so exactly as it should be--the love affair of Nancy and
Raymond--that it lacked excitement. There was a moment when Doris and
David Martin looked into each other's eyes and sadly smiled; but that
was past as it came.

"It's all right, Davey!"

"Of course, Doris, and Bud wasn't in it after all. It was our
desire--not his. He seems to feel he ought to be cheered for whooping
the thing on; making Raymond jealous, you know."

"Dear boy!"

"Thanks, Doris. He is something worth while."

Mrs. Tweksbury was so expansive in her happiness that she embarrassed
Nancy. She fairly bounded over the fragrant garden of new love and
scanned the wide pastures beyond.

"Ken, if I can see children in this old house, I'll thank God and depart
in peace. Say that you will come here, boy. You know I'm always
scuttling overseas. I won't be in the way--but it is the one desire of
my shrivelled old heart."

"Aunt Emily, go slow and don't be ridiculous. The idea of your being in
the way in your own house!"

"Ken, make Nancy love me. I know I'm gnarled and crusty, but I need what
she has to give all the more because of that. I have no pride--I want
that girl's love so--that I'd--I'd humble myself."

Raymond kissed her.

"Has she told you of her--her sister--yet?" Mrs. Tweksbury asked.

"Yes. Nancy says that until Joan, that's the name I believe, comes home
she cannot leave Miss Fletcher. Nancy must not sacrifice herself."

Raymond was quickly assuming the charms of ownership.

"She always has been," snapped Mrs. Tweksbury, "an unconscious offering.
Where is her gad-about sister?"

"I forget--out West somewhere, I believe."

"What is she doing?"

"The Lord knows. I got a very