became Ruth Spurlock,
for better or for worse. Spurlock gave his full name and
tremblingly inscribed it upon the certificate of marriage.

The customary gold band was missing; but a soft gold Chinese ring
Spurlock had picked up in Singapore--the characters representing
good luck and prosperity--was slipped over Ruth's third finger.

"There is no fee," said Dolby. "I am very happy to be of service to
you. And I wish you all the happiness in the world."

Mrs. Dolby was portly and handsome. There were lines in her face
that age had not put there. Guiding this man of hers over the
troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. He was the true
optimist; and that he should proceed, serenely unconscious of reefs
and storms, she accepted the double buffets.

This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight.
Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she
felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room--if only in the
loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands
of miles from home. Not once during the ceremony did the two look
at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who
was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the
world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken.

Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. Ruth
felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. She bent down.

"You are all right?"--anxiously.

"Yes ... but dreadfully tired."

Mrs. Dolby smiled. It was the moment for smiles. She approached
Ruth with open arms; and something in the way the child came into
that kindly embrace hurt the older woman to the point of tears.

These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the
eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember
that embrace. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was
more, full of understanding. It was in fact the first embrace of
motherhood she had ever known. Even after this woman had gone, it
seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been.

Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding
procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first
day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tom-toms, the weird music, the
ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. It was surely odd
that her thought should pick up that picture and recast it so
vividly.

At half after five that afternoon the doc