hat letter.
Oh, Aunt Kate--if we don't find him! But we will--if I have to walk up
to him in the station the last minute--and stop him----"

"Ah, Norma, you love him!" his mother said, in a great burst of
thankfulness. "And may God be thanked for all His goodness! That's all I
care about--that you love him, and that you two will be together again.
We'll get hold of him, dear, somehow----!"

"But, my darling," she added, coming presently to the bedroom door to
see the dashing little feathered hat go on, and the dotted veil pinned
with exquisite nicety over Norma's glowing face, and the belted brown
coat and loose brown fur rapidly assumed, "you're not wearing your
mourning!"

"Not to-day," Norma said, abstractedly. And aloud she read a list:

"Bank; Grand Central; drawing-room; new suit-case; notary for power of
attorney; Kitty Barry; telephone Chris, Leslie, Annie; telephone Regina
about trunks. Can we be back here at say--four, Aunt Kate?"

"But what's all that for?" her aunt asked, dazedly.

Norma looked at a check book; put it in her coat pocket. Then as her
aunt's question reached her preoccupied mind, she turned toward her with
a puzzled expression.

"Why, Aunt Kate--you don't seem to understand; I'm going with Wolf to
California this evening."

CHAPTER XXXVII

It was exactly nineteen minutes past five o'clock when Wolf Sheridan
walked into the Grand Central Station that afternoon. He had stopped
outside to send his wife some flowers, and just a brief line of
farewell, and he was thinking so hard of Norma that it seemed natural
that the woman who was coming toward him, in the great central
concourse, should suggest her. The woman was pretty, too, and wore the
sort of dashing little hat that Norma often wore, and there was
something so familiar about the belted brown coat and the soft brown
furs that Wolf's heart gave a great plunge, and began to
ache--ache--ache--hopelessly again.

The brown coat came nearer--and nearer. And then he saw that the wearer
was indeed his wife. She had dewy violets in her belt, and her violet
eyes were dewy, too, and her face paled suddenly as she put her hand on
his arm.

What Norma all that tired and panicky afternoon had planned to say to
Wolf on this occasion was something like this:

"Wolf, if you ever loved me, and if I ever did anything that made you
happy, and if all these years when I have been your little sister, and
your chum, and your wife, mean anyth