his time,
however, a new palm leaf, a new spray of bougainvillea blossoms, a bud
on the latest rose setting which he had from Los Angeles, said "Good
morning," without any response from him.

He paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind him, his head bowed
moodily, and his shoulders drawn together in a way that made him seem
older and more portly. With each turn he looked sharply, impatiently,
toward the door of the house.

Never had Mary so felt the charm of her room as on this morning; never
had it seemed so set apart from the world and so personal. It was the
breadth of the ell and the size of her father's library and bedroom
combined. The windows could hardly be called windows in a Northern sense,
for there was no glass. It was unnecessary to seal up the source of
light and air in a dry climate, where a blanket at night supplied all the
extra warmth one's body ever required. The blinds swung inward and the
shades softened the light and added to the privacy which the screen of
the growing young trees and creeping vines were fast supplying. Here she
could be more utterly alone than on the summit of the pass itself. She
paused in the doorway, surveying familiar objects in the enjoyed triumph
of complete seclusion.

While she waited for the water to run into the bowl, she looked fixedly
at the stains of a fluid which had been so warm in its touch. It was only
blood, she told herself. It would wash off, and she held her hands in the
water and saw the spread of the dye through the bowl in a moment of
preoccupation. Then she scrubbed as vigorously as if she were bent on
removing the skin itself. After she had held up her dripping fingers in
satisfied inspection, the spots on her gown caught her eye. For a moment
they, too, held her staring attention; then she slipped out of the gown
precipitately.

With this, her determined haste was at an end. She was about to enjoy the
feminine luxury of time. The combing of her hair became a delightful and
leisurely function in the silky feel of the strands in her fingers and
the refreshing pull at the roots. The flow of the bath water made the
music of pleasurable anticipation, and immersion set the very spirit of
physical life leaping and tingling in her veins. And all the while she
was thinking of how to fashion a narrative.

When she started down-stairs she was not only refreshed but remade. She
was going to breakfast at the usual hour, after the usual processes of
usheri