om Pen many a time had
wakened on the hearth rug of the old library.

Suddenly, with a little sob, Pen dropped on her knees beside the couch
and laid her cheek against Jim's. She felt him wake with a start, then
she felt a hand that trembled gently laid on her head.

"Heart's dearest, this is mighty good of you!" said Jim huskily.

Pen did not answer, but she put her hand up and smoothed his hair back
from his forehead. Jim seized her fingers and carried them to his lips.

"Sweetheart," he said brokenly, "how am I going to bear it without you
or--or anything. Oh, Pen, let's go back to Exham and begin all over
again!"

Penelope lifted her head and slipped back until she was sitting on the
floor beside the couch, with Jim holding both her hands against his hot
cheek.

"You will do this often, won't you, dear?" asked Jim.

Pen shook her head. "Jimmy, about twice more like this and I'd be
actually thinking seriously of leaving Sara and marrying you. God help
me to keep from ever doing as yellow a thing as that, Still. But,
somehow tonight, I thought that just this once would help us both
through all the hard months to come. And the memory will be mighty
sweet. We--we need a memory to take some of the bitterness out of it
all, Still. If I'm wrong in doing this, why the blame is mine alone."

Jim lay silently, holding her hands closer and closer, looking into her
face with eyes that did not waver.

Pen smiled and disengaged one hand to smooth his hair again. "I'm a poor
preacher. My life is just an endless struggle not to let my mistakes
wreck other people as well as myself. Jim, the thing that will be bigger
than all we've missed is to make you give the world all the fine force
that is in you. We've _got_ to save the dam for you and for the country.
I shall be with you every moment, Jim, no matter where either of us is,
bracing you with all the will I've got. Never forget that!"

Little by little the steel lines crept over Jim's face again. "I shall
not forget, little Pen. How sweet you are! How good! How less than a
lump of dough I'd be if I didn't put up a good fight after
this!--dearest!"

In the silence that followed, they did not take their gaze from each
other. Then Pen started, as Mrs. Flynn came in at the front door and
stopped with her mouth open. But Jim would not free Pen's hand.

"Mother Flynn must have guessed," he said slowly, "and--she knows us
both!"

Mrs. Flynn came over to the couch eagerly.