w minutes of John's eyes and his voice,
of the intoxication of being so passionately loved--!

She put aside this impulse, and went to write a telegram. But her hand
trembled as she did so, and her soul sickened. What could she offer
him, what but pain and fresh renunciation?

She had made many mistakes in her life. But through them all a certain
underlying principle had kept her safe. Could she fling that all aside
now; that courage that had made her, a frightened girl of twenty, come
with her unborn baby, away from the man whose marriage to her was in
question, the faith that had helped her to kneel calm and brave beside
the child who had gone?

To do that would make it all wasted and wrong. To do that would be to
lose the little she had brought from the hard years. She knew that she
would not do it. She put it all away, when the constant thought of it
arose, as weakness and madness.

Thursday came, and Martie, walking toward Sally's house, where she and
Teddy always had their Thursday supper, bought a paper, and read that
the Nippon Maru had duly sailed.

On the way she met Teddy himself--he had been to the store for Aunt
Sally--with 'Lizabeth and Billy; he was happy, chattering and curveting
about her madly in the warm twilight. He was happy here, and safe, she
told herself. And the Nippon Maru had sailed--

Sally was in her kitchen, her silky hair curled in damp rings on her
forehead. She had on her best gown, a soft blue gingham, for Sally had
just been elected to the club, and had been there this afternoon. She
had turned up the skirt of her dress, and taken off the frilled white
collar, laying it on a shelf until the dinner fuss and hurry should be
over. Mary was sitting in the high-chair, clean and expectant, Jim was
hammering nails in porch.

The children put down their bread and butter, Sally kissed her sister.
Martie began to butter swiftly, and spread it with honey.

"San Francisco paper, Mart?"

"Yes." Martie did not look up. "Mr. Dryden and Mr. Silver sailed this
morning," she said.

"Oh, really?" Sally turned a flushed face from the stove. "Lyd was
talking about him to-day, and the way he acted, carrying you off for a
walk, or something," Sally pursued cheerfully. "And until she happened
to say that his wife is living, I declare I was frightened to death for
fear he was in love with you, Mart!"

Martie stared at her in simple bewilderment. Could it be possible that
Sally had seen nothing of