of flimsy "palaces"
and dilapidated structures dating back to the Fifties, she felt the
vague restlessness that brooded over everything, and understood what he
had meant; and she also knew that she understood as he had not. Above
was the dazzling sky, not a fleck in its blue fire. There was not a
breath of wind in the city. She had never known a more peaceful day. And
yet, if at any moment the earth had rocked beneath her feet, she would
have felt no surprise.

She felt the necessity for exercise. It was now over a week since she
had been out of her room, and during that time she had not only studied
as usual, but read and read and read. She did not remember to have ever
felt so nervous before. She could not go back into the Cathedral; it was
musty in itself and crowded with the Great Unwashed. But it would not be
right to disturb Julie. There could be no harm in the least bit of a
walk alone, particularly as her father was in Menlo Park. She glanced
about her dubiously. Chinatown, which began a block to her right, was
out of the question, although she would have liked to see the women and
the funny little Chinese babies that she had heard of: the fortunate
Helena had been escorted through Chinatown by her adoring parent and a
policeman. She did not care to climb twice the almost perpendicular hill
which led to her home, and at the foot of the hill was the business
portion of the city. There was only one other way, and it looked quiet
and deserted and generally inviting.

She crossed California Street and walked along Dupont Street. She saw to
her surprise that the houses were small and mean; those the fire had
eaten had hardly been worse. They had green outside blinds and appeared
to date from the discovery of gold at least.

"There are poor people so near us," she thought. "Even Helena never
guessed it. I am glad the plate had not been handed round; I will give
some one my quarter."

The houses were very quiet. The shutters were closed, but the slats were
open. She glanced in, but saw no one.

"Probably they are all in the Cathedral," she thought. "I am glad it is
so close to them."

She walked on, forgetting the houses for the minute, absorbed in her new
appreciation of the strange suggestiveness of San Francisco. Again,
something was shaping itself in her mind, demanding expression. She felt
that it would have the power to make her forget all that she did not
wish to remember, and thought that perhaps this wa