gripped the arms of his chair and
kept still.

"She--she came to me willingly--three months ago! I've known and she
has known, Sand, such bliss as only free, untrammeled souls can know
who have gone through hell fire and proven themselves!"

Sandy almost sprang up. "You won't mind," he said jerkily, "if I raise
the window? The room is like a furnace."

When he came back to his place, Lans, head bent forward in clasped
hands, was ready for him.

"Women are all alike in some ways. They never dare let go entirely and
plunge! They hold on to something, get frightened, and scurry back to
tradition. Three weeks ago Spaulding sent for her--for Marian. He'd
lost everything; was ill and needed her. She went! I found a
note--that's all."

"Well!" Then having said that one word, Sandy sought about in his
confused mind for another. Again he said, "Well!" and waited.

"I--I cannot be happy without her. The longer I stay away the stronger
her claim seems to me. I must go back and--try again."

"Try--what?"

Sandy felt the cool, wet outer air touch his face as he leaned forward,
for at last Lans Treadwell had aroused him. He was not, however,
thinking of Lans and his yearnings; he was thinking of a little,
unknown woman who was following the gleam of her conscience, while
love, selfish love, was ready to spring upon her with its demands,
before she had wrestled with and solved her own problem.

"Try--what?"

"To get her away from Spaulding; get her back to me and--happiness. We
were happy, God knows we were!"

"If you--if she were happy, then her going proved something stronger
than happiness called her."

"Women are like that. They hold the world back by their conventions
and conservations. They ask for freedom and--and equality, and then
they cling to tradition in spite of all."

"I reckon," Sandy's eyes were troubled and tender, "I reckon we-all
better keep our hands off for a while and watch out to see them, the
women, solve what is their business. They-all may want freedom and the
rest--but it must be--as they see freedom and equality, Lans. I'm
mighty sure in every woman's heart there is the beginning of a path
leading--out and up, that they can find better alone. Why don't you
wait until--until this little"--Sandy dropped into the sweet
"lil"--"this little woman comes to you."

"She'd never come!" Lans half groaned; "you do not know how tradition
would hold her there. She'd starve rather