the buttered toast. Marion poured the tea in silence. They
drank, too, almost in silence, and nibbled at the toast, forgetful
that two days before, and for three dreadful months, tea and toast and
milk, served on a table laid with white linen, would have seemed like
a heavenly dispensation. Their very experience in the cave, which had
broken down so many barriers between them, seemed to have reared a new
one that neither understood. It was Marion who made a beginning to
scale that barrier.

"You have made Claire very happy, Philip," she said.

"That was easy," he answered.

"But it was grand!"

"And you too--a little?" he ventured.

"You know that, Philip!" And then, a little mischievously: "Remember I
tried to make peace between you once."

"And a fine job you made of it!" he retorted.

Then they both laughed, and lapsed again into silence. But presently
Haig arose, went to a cabinet standing against the wall, and brought
back a faded photograph, which he handed to her.

"My father," he said.

She saw a face that seemed a little sad, but the kindest of eyes, with
a half serious twinkle in them.

"The dear man!" she exclaimed softly.

"We were great friends," he said. "We used to take long walks together
of a Sunday afternoon. He was a silent man, rather, and we did not
talk much, but--shall I tell you one thing he used to say to me,
often?"

"Yes, Philip."

"I believed it then. But things happened to make me think that father
was mistaken. For ten years I didn't believe it at all."

"What was it, Philip?"

"He used to say: 'My boy, there's only one thing in the world that's
worth while. And that is love.'"

"Why, that's what Daddy always said, almost his very words!" she
cried, her eyes filling.

"If I only knew--" he began.

But she could endure no more. She rose swiftly to her feet, her eyes
devouring him, her arms stretched out.

"Marion!" he cried, and leaped to catch her, and folded her close, as
he had clasped her in the cave. But now the arms that stole up around
his neck did not fall away weakly as before, but tightened, and held
him.

A long time they remained thus, in a silence broken only by the
crackling of the flames, which they did not hear, and the wind rising
outside the cottage, for which they did not care. At length he put his
fingers under her chin, and raised her head so that he could look into
her eyes.

"I believe it now!" he said.

"It's true!" she answered, so lo