anly; it made him doubt
himself.

And so life, apparently, ran along smoothly on the surface. It was the
undercurrents that were really carrying things along at a terrific
rate.

It was in his tower room that most of Northrup's struggle went on.
Daily he confronted that which Was and Had To Be! With all his old
outposts being taken day by day, he was left bare and unprotected for
the last assault. And it came!

It came as death does, quite naturally for the most part, and found
him--ready. Like the dying--or the reborn--Northrup put his loved ones
to the acid test. His mother would understand. Kathryn? It was
staggering, at this heart-breaking moment, to discover, after all the
recent proving of herself, that Kathryn resolved into an Unknown
Quantity.

This discovery filled Northrup with a sense of disloyalty and
unreality. What right had he to permit the girl who was to be his
wife, the mother of his children, to be relegated to so ignominious a
position? Had she not proved herself to him in faithfulness and
understanding? Had she not, setting aside her own rights, looked well
to his?

The days dragged along and each one took its toll of Northrup's
vitality while it intensified that crusading emotion in his soul.

He did not mention all this to those nearest him until the time for
departure came, and he tried, God knew, to work while he performed the
small, devotional acts to his mother and Kathryn that would soon stand
forth, to one of them at least, as the most courageous acts of his
life.

He had come to that part of his book where his woman must take her
final stand--the stand that Mary-Clare had so undermined. If he
finished the book before he went--and he decided that it might be
possible--his woman must rise supreme over the doubts with which she
had been invested. But when he came to the point, the decision, if he
followed his purpose, looked cheap and commonplace--above everything,
obvious. In his present mood his book would be just--a book; not the
Big Experience.

This struggle to finish his work in the face of the stubborn facts at
moments obliterated the crusading spirit; the doubts of Kathryn and
even Mary-Clare's pervading insistence. He hated to be beaten at his
own job.

Love's supreme sacrifice and glory, as portrayed in woman--_must_ be
man's ideal, of course!

The ugly business of the world had to be got through, and man often
had to set love aside--for honour. "But, good Lord!" Nort