"I know the call for help--we used it formerly at the bank."

She hardly heard. She heard the lapping of the waters far below,--the
dark and restless waters--the cold and luring waters, as they called. He
stepped within. Slowly she walked to the wall, where the water called
below, and stood and waited. Long she waited, and he did not come. Then
with a start she saw him, too, standing beside the black waters. Slowly
he removed his coat and stood there silently. She walked quickly to him
and laid her hand on his arm. He did not start or look. The waters
lapped on in luring, deadly rhythm. He pointed down to the waters, and
said quietly:

"The world lies beneath the waters now--may I go?"

She looked into his stricken, tired face, and a great pity surged within
her heart. She answered in a voice clear and calm, "No."

Upward they turned toward life again, and he seized the wheel. The
world was darkening to twilight, and a great, gray pall was falling
mercifully and gently on the sleeping dead. The ghastly glare of reality
seemed replaced with the dream of some vast romance. The girl lay
silently back, as the motor whizzed along, and looked half-consciously
for the elf-queen to wave life into this dead world again. She forgot to
wonder at the quickness with which he had learned to drive her car. It
seemed natural. And then as they whirled and swung into Madison Square
and at the door of the Metropolitan Tower she gave a low cry, and her
eyes were great! Perhaps she had seen the elf-queen?

The man led her to the elevator of the tower and deftly they ascended.
In her father's office they gathered rugs and chairs, and he wrote a
note and laid it on the desk; then they ascended to the roof and he made
her comfortable. For a while she rested and sank to dreamy somnolence,
watching the worlds above and wondering. Below lay the dark shadows of
the city and afar was the shining of the sea. She glanced at him timidly
as he set food before her and took a shawl and wound her in it, touching
her reverently, yet tenderly. She looked up at him with thankfulness in
her eyes, eating what he served. He watched the city. She watched him.
He seemed very human,--very near now.

"Have you had to work hard?" she asked softly.

"Always," he said.

"I have always been idle," she said. "I was rich."

"I was poor," he almost echoed.

"The rich and the poor are met together," she began, and he finished:

"The Lord is the Maker of the