hing that they could say would change her decision, and they were
vaguely troubled by it, feeling that she had erected between herself and
them some barrier of reserve which they could not break down.

Sophie voiced this in a worried way when Bettina had gone up to pack the
little bag which Anthony was to convey with her precious self to Miss
Matthews. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said so much, but when she came she
seemed so unconscious of the dreadfulness and danger that I'm afraid I
scolded a bit."

"She's such a child! Do you think she will ever grow up?"

"Of course. Diana feels that she has many womanly qualities----"

Anthony, standing by the window, fixed his eyes steadily on the blue
distance as he asked:

"What do you hear--from Diana?"

"I've a letter." Sophie rummaged among the papers on her desk. "And
there's a bit at the end that will please you--you know Diana and her
enthusiasms----"

"Yes, I know----"

His head was still turned away as she opened the thick folded sheets.

"Shall I read it to you?"

"Please."

"She says she likes the hotel, and the people, although she doesn't see
much of them. But this is the part you'll appreciate:

"'There's a wonderful bit of woodland, Sophie, back in the hills, and
every day I go there and dream. I thought for a while that I had lost my
dreams--but now they are coming to me again in flocks--like doves. And
yesterday came the best dream of all. I have been trying to think what I
could do with my future, and I've thought of this: I'll build a place up
here in the forest where Anthony's sick folk can come when they begin to
get well, and thus I can finish the work which he begins----'"

She paused, as Anthony faced her. "Why didn't she write that to me?" he
demanded, almost roughly. "Didn't she know it would mean more to me than
to you--than to anybody----?"

Then with the sudden consciousness that he was showing his heart he
stammered, "Forgive me--but you know what I think--of Diana?"

Sophie was infinitely tactful. "Of course I know what you think of
her--she's the most wonderful woman in the whole wide world; and that's
a great plan of hers--to have a haven for your convalescents."

He made no answer, but just stood very still, looking out, and when
Bettina came down with her little bag, they went away together.

Miss Matthews in a gray flannel wrapper was shivering over an inadequate
fire.

"Why aren't you in bed?" the doctor asked.

"Because