of inexpressible allurement, but now he forced a laugh
and, stretching up his own arms, said challengingly, "Jump; I'll catch
you."

Each detail of that swimming excursion was a reminder; an emphasis of
thought upon these little things which association had made
unaccountably dear, and which must be relinquished, yet the physical
stimulus of the cooling water and the rhythmic companionship of the long
swim across the cove and back had their effect, too, and were healing.

As he followed her up the twisting path ... between pine and bayberry
... for the last time ... the sun shone on her until she sparkled as if
the clinging silk of her dripping bathing dress were sea weed, and in
his heart he cursed Eben Tollman.

When they sat alone at table, where shams refuse to survive, a silence
of constraint fell upon them and each fresh effort at talk broke down in
pitiful failure.

Later as the last plate was stored in the cupboard and Farquaharson hung
his dish towel on its rack, he said whimsically, "And to-morrow your
butler leaves your service. Are you going to give him references?"

With a sudden break in her voice she wheeled on him.

"Please, Stuart," she begged, "don't try to make jokes about it. It's
ghastly."

Early in the evening Farquaharson's prophecy fulfilled itself and the
storm broke with a premature ferocity of shrieking winds, and endless
play of lightning and torrents of rain. Against the French windows of
the living-room, where they sat, came a pelting like shot against the
glass.

"Conscience," said Stuart gravely, when the talk had for a time run in
uneven fits and starts, "I know your views by now, and you know mine.
But I want you to realize this: it's not your cause that I obey or
love--it's _you_."

He paused for a moment, then went on: "You told me last night that you
were helpless. I want you to recognize that you have been splendidly
victorious--all through: because you are splendid yourself. It's a
victory that's costing us all the happiness out of life, perhaps, but it
oughtn't to leave you any room for self-reproach. You stood a long siege
and it was left for me to make the hardest and most cruel onslaught of
all on your overtaxed courage. I am sorry--and I capitulate--and I love
you."

The clock in the hall struck nine and Conscience rose from her chair.
Her eyes filled with uncontrollable tears and her lips trembled at their
corners. The man bent forward, but, catching himself, he