longer the absorbing necessity to preserve, intact and
impregnable, the fortress of love and lies wherewith he had surrounded
her.

"When this chapter is finished," said the other, "you come down to
Angelica City with me. Perhaps we'll go on a little camping trip
together. I want to talk to you."

The train carried him away. Oppressed and thoughtful, Banneker walked
slowly across the blazing, cactus-set open toward his shack. There was
still the simple housekeeping work to be done, for he had left early
that morning. He felt suddenly spiritless, flaccid, too inert even for
the little tasks before him. The physician's pronouncement had taken the
strength from him. Of course he had known that it couldn't be very
long--but only a few weeks!

He was almost at the shack when he noticed that the door stood half
ajar.

But here, where everything had been disorder, was now order. The bed was
made, the few utensils washed, polished, and hung up; on the table a
handful of the alamo's bright leaves in a vase gave a touch of color.

In the long chair (7 T 4031 of the Sears-Roebuck catalogue) sat Io. A
book lay on her lap, the book of "The Undying Voices." Her eyes were
closed. Banneker reached out a hand to the door lintel for support.

A light tremor ran through Io's body. She opened her eyes, and fixed
them on Banneker. She rose slowly. The book fell to the floor and lay
open between them. Io stood, her arms hanging straitly at her side, her
whole face a lovely and loving plea.

"Please, Ban!" she said, in a voice so little that it hardly came to his
ears.

Speech and motion were denied him, in the great, the incredible surprise
of her presence.

"Please, Ban, forgive me." She was like a child, beseeching. Her firm
little chin quivered. Two great, soft, lustrous tears welled up from the
shadowy depths of the eyes and hung, gleaming, above the lashes. "Oh,
aren't you going to speak to me!" she cried.

At that the bonds of his languor were rent. He leapt to her, heard the
broken music of her sob, felt her arms close about him, her lips seek
his and cling, loath to relinquish them even for the passionate murmurs
of her love and longing for him.

"Hold me close, Ban! Don't ever let me go again! Don't ever let me doubt
again!"

When, at length, she gently released herself, her foot brushed the
fallen book. She picked it up tenderly, and caressed its leaves as she
adjusted them.

"Didn't the Voices tell you that I'd c