He had no words for that, only little caressing touches of her arm, her

hand. Perhaps, without knowing it, he was formulating a sort of prayer

that, since there must be troubles, she would, always come to him and he

would always be able to help her.

And Sidney, too, fell silent. She was recalling the day she became engaged

to Max, and the lost feeling she had had. She did not feel the same at all

now. She felt as if she had been wandering, and had come home to the arms

that were about her. She would be married, and take the risk that all women

took, with her eyes open. She would go through the valley of the shadow,

as other women did; but K. would be with her. Nothing else mattered.

Looking into his steady eyes, she knew that she was safe. She would never

wither for him.

Where before she had felt the clutch of inexorable destiny, the woman's

fate, now she felt only his arms about her, her cheek on his shabby coat.

"I shall love you all my life," she said shakily.

His arms tightened about her.

The little house was dark when they got back to it. The Street, which had

heard that Mr. Le Moyne approved of night air, was raising its windows for

the night and pinning cheesecloth bags over its curtains to keep them

clean.

In the second-story front room at Mrs. McKee's, the barytone slept heavily,

and made divers unvocal sounds. He was hardening his throat, and so slept

with a wet towel about it.

Down on the doorstep, Mrs. McKee and Mr. Wagner sat and made love with the

aid of a lighted match and the pencil-pad.

The car drew up at the little house, and Sidney got out. Then it drove

away, for K. must take it to the garage and walk back.

Sidney sat on the doorstep and waited. How lovely it all was! How

beautiful life was! If one did one's best by life, it did its best too.

How steady K.'s eyes were! She saw the flicker of the match across the

street, and knew what it meant. Once she would have thought that that was

funny; now it seemed very touching to her.

Katie had heard the car, and now she came heavily along the hall. "A woman

left this for Mr. K.," she said. "If you think it's a begging letter,

you'd better keep it until he's bought his new suit to-morrow. Almost any

moment he's likely to bust out."

But it was not a begging letter. K. read it in the hall, with Sidney's

shining eyes on him. It began abruptly:-"I'm going to Africa with one of my cousins. She is a medical missionary.

Perhaps I can work things out there. It is a bad station on the West

Coast. I am not going because I feel any call to the work, but because I

do not know what else to do.




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