appearance. It was almost as though what Arsdale had gained Donaldson
had lost. He was colorless, wan, and haggard. His eyes seemed more
deeply imbedded in the dark recesses below his brows. Even his hair at
the temples looked grayer. But neither his voice nor his manner
betrayed the change. The grip of his hand was just as sure; there was
the same certainty in gesture and speech, save perhaps for some
abstraction.

"They tell me I may stay but a minute," he said, "but it is good to see
you even that long."

"You brought him back home," she cried. "But it has cost you heavy.
You look tired."

"I am not tired," he answered shortly. Then turning the talk away from
himself, as he was ever eager to do, he continued,

"I brought him home, but the burden is still on you."

"Not a burden any longer. You have removed the burden."

"I 'm afraid not. There still remains the fight to make him stay.
This is only a beginning."

His face grew worried.

"He will stay," she answered confidently, "he will stay because you
reached the father in him and the father was a fighter. I saw the
father in his eyes--I heard his father's voice. It is a miracle!"

"No. The miracle is how we men keep blind."

"I feel blind myself when I think how you see."

"I am no psychic," he exclaimed impatiently. "I see nothing that is
n't before me. You can't help seeing unless you close your eyes. The
world presses in upon you from every side. It is insistent. Even now
the stars outside there are demanding recognition."

He drew back the crimson curtains draping the big French windows, which
opened upon a balcony. The silver stiletto rays darted a greeting to
him. He swung open the windows.

"Come out with me and see my friends," he said.

She rose instantly and followed him.

He stood there a moment in silence, his head back as he seemed to lead
her into the limitless fragrant purple above. She caught his profile
and saw him like some prophet. It was as though a people were at his
back and he trying to pierce the road ahead for them. The thin face
and erect head seemed to dominate the night. He looked down at her, a
sad smile about his mouth.

"Out here," he said, "out here with a million miles over our heads we
are freer."

In her eyes he saw now just what he saw in the stars, the same freedom
of unpathed universes. He saw the same limitlessness. Here there were
no boundaries. A man could go on forever and f