* * * * *

On the following Sunday morning, Adith Mallory's Equatorian
news-feature appeared. The entire truth and all the names were not
needed to make this as entertaining a Sunday newspaper story as ever
drew forth her fanciful and flowing style. It was Equatoria that caught
and held Beth's eye, and she saw Andrew Bedient in large movement
behind the tale. The feature was dated in Coral City ten days before.
Beth was so interested that she wanted to meet the correspondent, and
wondered if Miss Mallory had returned to New York. She dropped a card
with her telephone number, and the next morning Miss Mallory 'phoned.
Her voice became bright with animation upon learning that Beth was upon
the wire.

"There's no one in New York whom I'd rather talk with this moment, Miss
Truba."

"And why?"

"That portrait at the _Smilax Club_--I saw it yesterday. I'm writing
about it.... The face I know--and you have done it tremendously! I
can't tell you how it affected me. Don't bother to come down here. Let
me go to you."

"I shall be glad to see you, Miss Mallory,--this afternoon?"

"Yes, and thank you."

The call had brightened Beth's mood somewhat. A bundle of letters had
been dropped through her door as she talked. Beth saw the quantity of
them and remembered it was Monday's first mail. She busied about the
studio for a moment.... Letters, she thought,--these were all she had
to represent her great investments of faith. Letters--the sum of her
longings and vivid expectations. No matter what she wanted or
deserved--a voice, a touch or a presence--it had all come to this, the
crackle of letter paper. What a strange thing to realize! A fold of
paper instead of a hand--a special delivery instead of a step upon the
stair--a telegram instead of a kiss!...

"I belong in a cabinet," she sighed. "I guess I'm a letter-file instead
of a lady."...

There was a large square envelope from Equatoria.... With stinging
cheeks, Beth resented the buoyant happiness of the first few lines.
Until a clearer understanding came, it seemed that he was blessing her
refusal of him. How unwarranted afterward this thought appeared! The
letter lifted her above her own suffering. Her mind was held by the
great vital experience of a soul, a soul faring forth on its supreme
adventure. He did not say what had happened in words, but she saw his
descent in the flesh and his upward flight of spirit--the low ebb and
the flashing hei