been born and which had become a part of his nature. "If he doesn't play
fair ... if he should--hurt her ... I'd take him apart, Mr. Baines."

"Calc'late you would," said Scattergood, tranquilly, "but there's a law
in sich case, made and pervided, callin' that kind of amusement
murder ..."

It was not Scattergood's custom to publish his emotions; nevertheless
he was worried. He appreciated the state of mind which had brought Sarah
to Coldriver--the spirit of restless, resentful youth, demanding the
world for its plaything. He knew Sarah's high temper, her eagerness for
adventure.... He knew that thousands of girls before her had been
fascinated by well-told tales of the life to be lived out in the world
of cities, of wealth, of artificial gayeties ... the lure of travel, of
excitement.... And Scattergood did not covet the duty of carrying a
woeful story to old Nahum Pound, the gentle schoolmaster.

His uneasiness was not decreased by a bit of unpremeditated
eavesdropping that fell in his way the next evening.... Farley Curtis
was talking, Sarah Pound was listening--eagerly.

"You can't understand what living is," the man was saying, "How could
you? You haven't lived. Here in this backwater you will never live....
You move around in a fog of monotony. Every day the same. But out
there.... Everything! Everything you want and can imagine is there for
the taking. A beautiful woman can take what she wants--that's what it's
all for--for her to help herself to. Life and excitement and
pleasure--and love ... they are all out there waiting."

Sarah sighed.

"Did you ever try to imagine Paris, London, Madrid, Rome?" he went on.
"You can't do it.... But you can see them. I--I would take you if you
would let me ... if things fall out right. I'm poor ...but with this
Beatty money I could take you anywhere. It would give us everything we
want.... Half of that money belongs to me rightfully, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"But I may not get it."

She was silent.

"There is a paper," he said, "and that paper may stand between you and
me--and Paris and Rome and the world...." He paused, and then said,
carelessly: "Won't you go with me, Sarah--away from this? Won't you let
me take you, to love and to make happy?"

Presently she spoke, so low her voice was scarcely audible to
Scattergood. "I don't know.... I don't know," she said.

Scattergood had heard enough. He stole away silently. The time had come
to act, if he were g