mmediately
he heard her voice.

"If you don't mind waiting for about three minutes while I have a
shower and dress...."

"Oh, is the entertainment over?" asked Jill, disappointed. "I always
arrive too late for everything."

"One of these days you shall see me go through the whole programme,
including shadow-boxing and the goose-step. Bring your friends! But at
the moment I think it would be more of a treat for you to watch me eat
an egg. Go and look at the view. From over there you can see Hoboken."

"I've seen it. I don't think much of it."

"Well, then, on this side we have Brooklyn. There is no stint. Wander
to and fro and enjoy yourself. The rendezvous is in the sitting-room
in about four moments."

Wally vaulted through the passage-window and disappeared. Then he
returned and put his head out.

"I say!"

"Yes?"

"Just occurred to me. Your uncle won't be wanting this place for half
an hour or so, will he? I mean, there will be time for me to have a
bite of breakfast?"

"I don't suppose he will require your little home till some time in
the evening."

"Fine!"

Wally disappeared again, and a few moments later Jill heard the faint
splashing of water. She walked to the parapet and looked down. On the
windows of the nearer buildings the sun cast glittering beams, but
further away a faint, translucent mist hid the city. There was Spring
humidity in the air. In the street she had found it oppressive: but on
the breezy summit of this steel-and-granite cliff the air was cool and
exhilarating. Peace stole into Jill's heart as she watched the boats
dropping slowly down the East River, which gleamed like dull steel
through the haze. She had come to Journey's End, and she was happy.
Trouble and heartache seemed as distant as those hurrying black ants
down on the streets. She felt far away from the world on an enduring
mountain of rest. She gave a little sigh of contentment and turned to
go in as Wally called.

In the sitting-room her feeling of security deepened. Here, the world
was farther away than ever. Even the faint noises which had risen to
the roof were inaudible, and only the cosy tick-tock of the
grandfather's clock punctuated the stillness.

She looked at Wally with a quickening sense of affection. He had the
divine gift of silence at the right time. Yes, this was home. This was
where she belonged.

"It didn't take me in, you know," said Jill at length, resting her
arms on the table and regarding