m again. The breeze
seized upon the ends of the cloud and lifted them fitfully as though
they were wings too tired for full flight.

"Nat," whispered Lewis, "You remember the night I left Nadir. Is it the
same dress?"

"Silly," said Natalie, smiling faintly. "I've grown ten inches since
then."

Lewis reached out slowly and took her hands. How he remembered that
good-by, every bit of it! Natalie's hands gripping his shoulders, his
arms about her twitching, warm body, his face buried in her fragrant
hair! But to-night her hands were cold and trembling to withdrawal. He
felt withdrawal in her whole body, so close to him, so far away. Why was
she so far away? Suddenly he remembered yesterday--the moment when the
stranger woman had looked out at him from Natalie's eyes. She was far
away because they two had traveled far from childhood.

His own hands were hot. They were eager to seize Natalie, to drag
himself back, and her with him, into childhood's land of faith. But he
knew he had not the strength for that. He had only the strength to drop
her cold hands and to turn and shout for Silas.

On the way home Lewis plunged rebelliously against his father's mood.

"Dad," he said, "do you think Natalie belongs to the Old Guard?"

"The Old Guard?" repeated Leighton, vacantly. Then a gleam of-light
dawned in his eyes. "Your little pal--the Old Guard. No, she doesn't
belong in the way of a recruit; she hasn't joined the ranks. Do you want
to know why? Because, boy, your little pal and women like her are the
foundation, the life's blood, of the Old Guard. She doesn't have to
join. She is, was, and always will be the Old Guard itself. In her
single heart she holds the seven worlds of women."

"But, Dad," said Lewis, half turning in his seat, "you don't know
Natalie. You've never once talked to her."

Leighton shrugged his shoulders.

"I've met lots of men that know God; I've never seen one that could
prove him. I know Natalie better--better----" Then suddenly his mind
trailed off to its desert place. He would speak no more that night.

The next day they were off. Action and movement brought a measure of
relief from the very start. Leighton glanced almost eagerly from the
windows of the hurrying train, watching for the sudden turn and the new
view. There remained in his eyes, however, a desperate question. Was
"going away" still the sovereign cure?

At New York a cable awaited him. He opened it, read it, and turned
bruskl