aven't thought. She's so different from--every
one. She's little but makes you think big. She's always saying things
you remember afterward, but she doesn't talk much. She's--she's got
light hair and blue eyes!" This triumphantly.

"And I hope she--dresses well?" This with a twinkle, for Kendall was
keen about the details of a woman's dress.

"She must, or I would have noticed." Then, upon reflection, "or perhaps
I wouldn't."

"Well, good-night, Brace, and--give Mrs. John my love. Poor dear! she
came up to ask me yesterday if I could make a small room _look_
spacious! You see, John likes to have everything cluttered--close to his
touch. She wants him to have his way and at the same time she wants to
breathe, too. Her West is in her blood."

"What are you going to do about it, Lyn?" Kendall lighted a cigar and
laughed.

"Oh, I managed to give a prairie-like suggestion of openness to her
living-room plan and I told her to make John reach for a few things. It
would do him good and save her soul alive."

"And she--what did she say to that?"

"Oh, she laughed. She has such a pretty laugh. Good-night, brother."

And then Lynda went upstairs to her quiet, dim room. It was a warmish
night, with a moon that shone through the open space in the rear. The
lot had not been built upon and the white path that had seemed to lure
old William Truedale away from life now stretched before Lynda Kendall,
leading into life. Whatever doubts and fears she had known were put
away. In her soft thin dress, standing by the open window, she was the
gladdest creature one could wish to see. And so Truedale found her. He
knew that only one reason had caused Lynda to meet him as she was now
doing. It was--surrender! Across the moon-lighted room he went to her
with opened arms, and when she came to meet him and lifted her face he
kissed her reverently.

"I wonder if you have thought?" he whispered.

"I have done nothing else in the ages since I last saw you, Con."

"And you are not--afraid? You, who should have the best the world has to
offer?"

"I am not afraid; and I--have the best--the very best."

Again Truedale kissed her.

"And when--may I come home--to stay?" he asked presently, knowing full
well that the old home must be theirs.

Lynda looked up and smiled radiantly. "I had hoped," she said, "that I
might have the honour of declining the little apartment. I'm so glad,
Con, dear, that you want to come home to stay and will not