out at me with a miracle of graciousness.
Her perfectly curving lips were graver, and if possible sweeter than her
eyes. Her chin and throat were exquisitely modeled. Her hair was
abundantly massed and heavy. I could guess from the photographic tones
that its coils and escaping tendrils of curl, varied in shifting lights
between the red warmth of gold and the amber of clear honey.

But what most made this a remarkable photograph was its living quality.
So vital was the effect as one looked, that it seemed a palpitant
personality of breath and soul. The lips might be trembling on the verge
of speech and in the quiet smile hovered a delightful hint of whimsical
humor. The whole bearing was queenly with that gracious pride which we
characterize as royal when we speak of royalty as something inherently
noble. For the accolade of a smile from those lips, in the flesh, a man
might undertake all manner of folly. The young woman was in evening
dress and at her throat hung a rope of pearls.

Suddenly a transport of rage and a bitterness of contrast possessed me.
My hair was matted, my arms and hands raw and blackened with blood and
grime. I was the picture of abandoned misery. The satirical gods now set
Tantalus-wise before my eyes a picture of beauty and ease and
shelter--a pretty woman in the charming fripperies of evening dress.

But while I scowled, her eyes smiled back into my own, challenging in me
the vagabond spirit of the whimsical, until I too smiled.

I bowed to the picture.

"You are quite right," I said aloud. "Since it is impossible to alter
the situation, the only sane course is to recognize its humor. While we
are together here, I shall regard you as a living person. It shall be
our effort to turn this poor jest on the high gods who are its authors."

It almost seemed to me that the lips parted and the eyes danced
approvingly.

"Frances," I added, "I may call you Frances, may I not, in view of the
informality of our circumstances?--you are gorgeous. It was good of you
to come to keep me company. I needed you."

The air held a twilight stillness upon which my words fell clamorously.
I realized that I had not before spoken aloud for more than a day. Into
the ensuing silence came a new and alarming sound. It was half human and
incoherent, like a number of voices at a distance. I felt my muscles
grow rigid and choked off a half-animal growl that rose involuntarily in
my throat. Instinctively I was whipping t