nd asked abruptly in a voice
strangely high-pitched for his own:

"Is a man ever justified in leaving his wife?"

The tourist looked startled; but he was a man of tact and wisdom,
evidently, and he quickly adjusted himself to what was plainly a special
need, an extraordinary condition. "Ah, that's a very old question," he
replied gently. "It's been asked often, and there have been many
answers."

"But is he?" persisted Harboro.

"There are various conditions. If a man and a woman do not love each
other, wouldn't it seem wiser for them to rectify the mistake they had
made in marrying? But if they love each other ... it seems to me quite a
simple matter then. I should say that under no circumstances should they
part."

"But if the wife has sinned?"

"My dear man ... sinned; it's a difficult word. Let us try to define it.
Let us say that a sin is an act deliberately committed with the primary
intention of inflicting an injury upon some one. It becomes an ugly
matter. Very few people sin, if you accept my definition."

Harboro was regarding him with dark intentness.

"The trouble is," resumed the other man, "we often use the word sin when
we mean only a weakness. And a weakness in an individual should make us
cleave fast to him, so that he may not be wholly lost. I can't think of
anything so cruel as to desert one who has stumbled through weakness. The
desertion would be the real sin. Weaknesses are a sort of illness--and
even a pigeon will sit beside its mate and mourn, when its mate is ill. It
is a beautiful lesson in fidelity. A soldier doesn't desert his wounded
comrade in battle. He bears him to safety--or both perish together. And by
such deeds is the consciousness of God established in us."

"Wait!" commanded Harboro. He clinched his fists. A phrase had clung to
him: "He bears him to safety or both perish together!"

He arose from the seat he had taken and staggered away half a dozen steps,
his hands still clinched. Then, as if remembering, he turned about so that
he faced the man who had talked to him. Beyond loomed the ancient church
in which Sylvia had said it would seem possible to find God. Was He there
in reality, and was this one of His angels, strayed a little distance from
His side? It was not the world's wisdom that this man spoke, and yet how
eternally true his words had been! A flock of pigeons flew over the plaza
and disappeared in the western glow where the sun was setting. "Even a
pigeon wi