east, uncertain.

"To-morrow," without looking at her.

"Where, if I may ask?"

"To my own country."

"America."

"Yes."

"It is very large," irrelevantly. "I remember--of course, you are an
American; I--I have hardly realized it; we, we Australians are not so
unlike you."

"Perhaps," irrelevantly on his part, "because your country, also, is--"

"Big," said the girl. Her hands moved slightly. "Are--are you going to
remain there? In America, I mean?"

He expected to; John Steele spoke in a matter-of-fact tone; he could
trust himself now. The interview was just a short, perfunctory one; it
would soon be over; this he repeated to himself.

"But--your friends--here?" Her lips half-veiled a tremulous little
smile.

"My friends!" Something flashed in his voice, went, leaving him very
quiet. "I am afraid I have not made many while in London." Her eyes
lifted slightly, fell. "Call it the homing instinct!" he went on with a
laugh. "The desire once more to become part and parcel of one's native
land; to become a factor, however small, in its activities."

"I don't think you--will be--a small factor," said the girl in a low
tone.

He seemed not to hear. "To take up the fight where I left it, when a
boy--"

"The fight!" The words had a far-away sound; perhaps she saw once more,
in fancy, an island, the island. Life was for strong people, striving
people. And he had fought and striven many times; hardest of all, with
himself. She stole a glance at his face; he was looking down; the
silence lengthened. He waited; she seemed to find nothing else to say.
He too did not speak; she found herself walking toward the door.

"Good-by." The scene seemed the replica of a scene somewhere else,
sometime before. Ah, in the garden, amid flowers, fragrance. There were
no flowers here--

"Good-by." He spoke in a low voice. "As I told Captain Forsythe,
you--you need not feel concern about the story ever coming out--"

"Concern? What do you mean?"

"Your telegram to Captain Forsythe, the fear that brought you to
London--"

"The--you thought that?"--swiftly.

"What else?"

The indignation in her eyes met the surprise in his.

"Thank you," she said; "thank you for that estimate of me!"

"Miss Wray!" Contrition, doubt, amazement mingled in his tone.

"Good-by," she said coldly.

And suddenly, as one sees through a rift in the clouds the clear light,
he understood.

* * * * *

"You will