ant to be alone. I want to forget. I want
to think. I want to try to realize."

"You are going alone?"

"Yes, quite alone. But I shall not feel alone when I get there. The
Maharanee will receive me with open arms. And my life will be useful
there. The women need me; I will teach them to read, to sew, to sing."

"Mrs. Harding--Margaret--you must not do this. You have sacrificed your
life enough--you have the right to live----"

There is emotion in Sir John's tone. It is very rough on him to find his
plan of going to Kafoonistan has been outdone by Mrs. Harding's going to
Balla Walla. She shakes her head.

"No, no; my life is of no account now. But you, John, you are needed
here, the country needs you. Men look to you to lead them."

Mrs. Harding would particularize if she could, but she can't just for
the minute remember what it is Sir John can lead them to. Sir John
shakes his head.

"No, no; my work lies there in Kafoonistan. There is a man's work to be
done there. The tribes are ignorant, uncivilized."

This dialogue goes on for some time. Mrs. Harding keeps shaking her head
and saying that Sir John must not go to Kafoonistan, and Sir John says
she must not go to Balla Walla. He protests that he wants to work and
she claims that she wants to try to think clearly. But it is all a
bluff. They are not going. Neither of them. And everybody knows it.
Presently Mrs. Harding says:

"You will think of me sometimes?"

"I shall never forget you."

"I'm glad of that."

"Wherever I am, I shall think of you--out there in the deserts, or at
night, alone there among the great silent hills with only the stars
overhead, I shall think of you. Your face will guide me wherever I am."

He has taken her hand.

"And you," he says, "you will think of me sometimes in Balla Walla?"

"Yes, always. All day while I am with the Maharanee and her women, and
at night, the great silent Indian night when all the palace is asleep
and there is heard nothing but the sounds of the jungle, the cry of the
hyena and the bray of the laughing jackass, I shall seem to hear your
voice."

She is much moved. She rises, clenches her hands and then adds, "I have
heard it so for five and twenty years."

He has moved to her.

"Margaret!"

"John!"

"I cannot let you go, your life lies here--with me--next my heart--I
want your help, your love, here inside the beyond."

And as he speaks and takes her in his arms, the curtain sinks upon them,