to me, yet, if I saw him--I don't know! Sometimes I worry for fear that
he might want Anna, and of course I wouldn't give her up if it meant a
dozen divorces."

Richard sat staring into the fire for a few moments; then he roused
himself to ask smilingly:

"How'd we get started on this little heart to heart, anyway?"

"Well, I don't know," Julia said, smiling, too. "I couldn't talk of it
for a long while. I can't now, to any one but you. But it all means less
to me than it did. Jim never could hurt me now as he did then." She
straightened up in her chair. "It's been a wonderful talk!" she said,
with shining eyes. "And you're a friend in a million, Richie, dear! And
now," very practically, "where are you going to sleep, my dear? Aunt
Sanna has your room."

"This couch out here is made up!" Richard said, with a backward jerk of
his head toward the room behind him.

"Ah, then you're all right!" Julia rose, and stopped behind his chair
for a moment, to lay a light kiss on his hair. "Good-night, Little
Brother!" she said affectionately.

Instantly one of the bony hands shot out, and Julia felt her wrist
caught as in a vise. Richard swiftly twisted about and got on his own
feet, and for a minute their eyes glittered not many inches apart. Julia
tried to laugh, but she was breathing fast.

"_Richard_!" she said in a sharp whisper. "What is it?"

"Julia!" he choked, breathing hard.

For a long moment they remained motionless, staring at each other. Then
Richard's grip on her wrists relaxed, and he sank into his deep chair,
dropped his elbows on his knees, and put his hands over his face. Julia
stood watching him for a second.

"Good-night, Richie!" she said then, almost inaudibly.

"Good-night!" he whispered through his shut fingers. Julia slipped
softly away, closing the door of her bedroom noiselessly behind her.

Anna was asleep in the upper bed, lying flat on her back, with her
lovely hair falling loosely about her flushed little face. The little
cabin bedroom was as sweet as the surrounding woodland, wide-open
windows admitted the fragrant coolness of the spring night. There was no
moon, but the sky that arched high above the little valley was thickly
spattered with stars. Richie's cat, a shadow among paler shadows, leaped
swiftly over the new grass. Julia got the milky odour of buttercups, the
breath of the little Persian lilac that flanked one end of the porch.

Her heart was beating thickly and excitedly