er now, less brilliantly, on the lifting film. The light had gone out
of her face. All the bench was in shadow; in the valley below a twilight
indistinctness had fallen. Then suddenly once more Cerberus stood forth
like a beast of brass. She shivered.

"It isn't possible," she said. "It isn't possible. Even if I dared--for
David's sake--to assume the responsibility, I haven't the money to carry
the project through."

Tisdale stopped and swung around. They had reached the flat rock under the
sentinel pine tree. "Did you know David Weatherbee?" he asked.

She was silent. He put his hands in his pockets and stood regarding her
with his upward look from under slightly frowning brows. "So you knew
David," he went on. "In California, I presume, before he went to Alaska.
But why didn't you tell me so?"

She waited another moment. In the great stillness Hollis heard her labored
breathing. She put out her hand, steadying herself on the bole of the
pine, then: "I've wanted to tell you," she began. "I've tried to--but--it
was impossible to make you understand. I--I hadn't the courage."

Her voice fluted and broke. The last word was almost a whisper. She stood
before Tisdale with veiled eyes, breath still coming hard and quick, the
lovely color deepening and paling in her face, like a woman awaiting
judgment. And it came over him in a flash, with the strength of
conviction, that this beautiful, inscrutable girl wished him to know she
had loved Weatherbee. Incredible as it seemed, she had been set aside for
the Spanish woman. And she had learned about David's project; he himself
perhaps had told her years ago in California. And though his wife had
talked with Morganstein about platting the land into five-acre tracts to
dispose of quickly, this woman had desired to see the property with a view
to carrying out his plans. That was why she had continued the journey from
Snoqualmie Pass alone. That was why she had braved the mountain drive with
him. She had loved Weatherbee. This truth, sinking slowly, stirred his
inner consciousness and, wrenched in a rising commotion, something far
down in the depths of him lost hold. He had presumed to think, in the
infinite scheme of things, this one woman had been reserved for him. He
had dared to let her know he believed so; he had taken advantage of her
helpless situation, on an acquaintance of two days. His own color began to
burn through the tan. "You were right," he said at last, very gently