a knock at the door. She threw it open and a
porter brought in one of those showy Japanese shrubs in an ornate
jardiniere, such as Frederic Morganstein so often used as an expression of
his regard. His card hung by a ribbon from a branch, like a present on a
Christmas tree, and when the boy had gone, she untied it and carried it to
Mrs. Weatherbee. "I wish you could marry Frederic and settle it all," she
said. "Japan is lovely in the spring."

Beatriz, who had taken the card indifferently, allowed it to drop without
reading it. Her glance rested again on the shining dome.

"I told him I would ask you to see him a few moments to-night," Elizabeth
resumed. "He is feeling miserably. He says he was ill when we made the
ascent that day and never should have left the hotel; his high temperature
and the altitude affected his head. He believes he must have said things
that offended or frightened you--things he wasn't responsible for." She
paused, then, for a woman who had been so schooled to hold herself in hand
as Elizabeth Morganstein, went on uncertainly: "He is just a plain
business man, used to going straight to a point, but not many men care so
much for a woman as he does for you. You could mold him like wax. He says
all he wants now--if he did make a mistake--is a chance to wipe it out;
start with a clean slate."

Mrs. Weatherbee rose from the couch. She stood a moment meeting
Elizabeth's earnest look. The shadow of a smile touched her mouth, but
well-springs of affection brimmed her eyes. "We cannot wipe out our
mistakes, dear," she said. "They are indelible. We have to accept them,
study them, use them as a rule from which to work out the problems of our
lives. There is no going back, no starting over, if we have missed an
easier way. Elizabeth, in one hour on that mountain I saw more of the true
Frederic Morganstein than in all the years I had known him before. In the
great moments of life, I should have no influence with him. Even for your
sake, dear, I could not marry him. I do not want to see him any more."

There was a silence, then Elizabeth said: "In that case, I am going to
ease things for you. I am going to buy that desert land. Now, don't say a
word. I am going to pay you Lucky Banks' price, and, of course, for the
improvements whatever is right."

"But it is not on the market," replied Beatriz. "I told you I had decided
to live there. I hoped--you would like to go with me. For awhile, at
least, you migh