e day as they
emerged from an unusually excited scene. "Write this down: Nothing bores
one like somebody else's belated emotions. When you've had some woman
insist on kissing you after you're tired of her, you'll understand me
better. In the meantime, this is bad enough. I can think of only one
cure for what we've been through here, and that is a Sunday in London.
Let us start."

"London!" breathed Lewis. "Are we going to London?"

"Yes, we are. It's a peculiar fact, well known and long cursed among
travelers, that all the steamers in the world arrive in England on
Saturday afternoon. We'll get to London for Sunday."

During the long voyage, for the first time since the day on which he met
the stranger, and which already seemed of long ago, Lewis had time to
think. A sadness settled on him. What were they doing at Nadir on this
starry night? Were the goats corraled? Who had brought them in? Was
mammy crooning songs of low-swinging chariots and golden stairs? Was
Mrs. Leighton still patiently sewing? The Reverend Orme, was he still
sitting scowling and staring and staring? And Natalie? Was she there, or
was she gone, married? He drew a great, quivering sigh.

Leighton looked around.

"Trying to pick up a side-tracked car?"

Lewis smiled faintly, but understandingly.

"It's not quite side-tracked--yet," he said.

"Ah, boy, never look back," said Leighton. "But, no; do. Do look back.
You're young yet. Tell me about it."

Then for a long time Lewis talked of Nadir: of the life there, of the
Reverend Orme, grown morose through unnamed troubles; of Mrs. Leighton,
withered away till naught but patience was left; of happy mammy, grown
sad; of Natalie, friend, playmate, and sacrifice.

"So they wanted to marry your little pal into motherhood twenty times
over, ready-made," said Leighton. "And you fought them, told 'em what
you thought of it. You were right, boy; you were right. The wilderness
must have turned their heads. But you ought to have stayed with it. Why
didn't you stay with it? You're no quitter."

"There were things I said to the Reverend Orme," said Lewis,
slowly--"things I knew, that made it impossible for me to stay."

"Things you knew? What things?"

Lewis did not answer.

* * * * *

It was on a gray Sunday that they entered London. In a four-wheeler, the
roof of which groaned under a pyramid of baggage, they started out into
the mighty silence of deserted streets.