piteous tremble in it, "won't you speak to
me? Don't you--don't you know me?"

Her voice awoke him, brought him down from the soaring heights of
imagination as it were with a thud. He strode forward and caught her
hands in his.

"Good heavens, Daisy!" he said. "I thought I was dreaming! How on
earth--"

And there he stopped dead, checked in mid career, for she was leaning
back from him, leaning back with all her strength that he might not
kiss her.

He stood, still holding her hands, and looked at her. There was a
curious, choked sensation at his throat, as if he had swallowed ashes.
She had come back to him--she had come back to him indeed, but he had
a feeling that she was somehow beyond his reach, further away from him
in that moment of incredible reunion than she had ever been during all
the weary months of their separation. This woman with the pale face
and tragic eyes was a total stranger to him. Small wonder that he had
thought himself to be dreaming!

With a furious effort he collected himself. He let her hands slip
from his. "Come in here," he said, forcing his dry throat to speech by
sheer strength of will. "You should have let me know."

She went in without a word, and came to a stand before the table that
was littered with his work. She was agitated, he saw. Her hand was
pressed against her heart, and she seemed to breathe with difficulty.

Instinctively he came to her aid with commonplace phrases--the first
that occurred to him. "How did you come? But no matter! Tell me
presently. You must have something to eat. You look dead beat. Sit
down, won't--"

And there he stopped again, breaking off short to stare at her. In the
lighted room she had turned to face him, and he saw that her hair was
no longer golden but silvery white.

Seeing his look, she began to speak in hurried, uneven sentences. "I
have been ill, you know. It--it was brain fever, Jim said. Hair--fair
hair particularly--does go like that sometimes."

"You are well again?" he questioned.

"Oh, quite--quite." There was something almost feverish in the
assertion; she was facing him with desperate resolution. "I have been
well for a long time. Please don't send for anything. I dined at the
dak-bungalow an hour ago. I--I thought it best."

Her agitation was increasing. She panted between each sentence. Will
turned aside, shut and bolted the window, and drew the blind. Then he
went close to her; he laid a steady hand upon her.

"Sit