the
penalty should be abrogated altogether is out of the question. Some of
us must go on paying it--all four of us, indeed, to some degree. And
yet, any relief for one would be some relief for all. Do you see what I
mean?"

The question was addressed to Edith specially.

"I'm not sure that I do," she replied, looking at him wistfully. "Is it
this?--that, assuming what you do assume, it would be easier for you if
I--I went away?"

"I shouldn't put it in just those words, I only mean that what's
hardest for you is hardest for me. I couldn't hold you to the letter of
one contract if you were keeping the spirit of another. Do you see now?"

She didn't answer at once, so that Chip intervened: "Hasn't some one
said--Shakespeare or some one--that the letter killeth? It seems to me
I've heard that."

"You probably have. Some one has said it. But He also added, as a
balancing clause, 'The Spirit giveth life.' That's the vital part of it.
To find out where the spirit is in our present situation is the question
now."

She looked at him tearfully. "Well, _where_ is it?"

He rose quietly. "That's for you and Mr. Walker to discover for
yourselves. I've gone as far as I dare."

"You're not going away?" she asked, hastily.

He smiled at them both. For the first time in Chip's acquaintance with
him it was a positive smile. "I think you'll most easily find your way
alone."

"Oh no. Wait!" she begged; but he had already lifted his hat in his
stately way and begun to walk back toward the hotel.

Then came the bliss of being alone together. In spite of everything,
they felt that. Edith leaned across the rude table, her hands clasped
upon it. She spoke rapidly, as if to make full use of the time.

"Oh, Chip, what are we to do?"

He too leaned across the table, his arms folded upon it, the extinct
cigar still between his fingers. He gazed deep into her eyes. "It's a
chance. It will never come again. Shall we take it?--or let it go?"

"Could you take it, if I did?"

"Could you--if I did?"

She tried to reflect. "It's the spirit," she said, haltingly, after a
minute. "Oughtn't we to get at that?--just as he said. We've had so much
of--of the letter."

"Ah, but what _is_ the spirit? How _do_ you get at it? That's the
point."

She tried to reflect further--further and harder and faster. "Wouldn't
it be--what we _feel_?"

"What we feel is that--that we love each other, isn't it?--that we love
each other as much as we di