in a happier world.

At six o'clock he went to Aleta's apartment. She had not yet arrived but
presently she came. He saw that she had been crying. She could
scarcely speak.

"Frank, let us walk somewhere," she said. "I can't go upstairs; it's too
full of memories. And I can't sit still. I've got to keep moving--fast."

They strode off together, taking a favorite walk through the Presidio
toward the Beach. From a hill-top they saw the Exposition buildings
rising from what once had been a slough.

Aleta paused and looked down.

"It's easier to bear--up here," she spoke in an odd, weary monotone, as
if she were thinking aloud. "This morning ... I think, if Norah had left
anything in the bottle ... I'd have taken it, too."

"Why did she do it?" Frank asked quickly.

Aleta faced him. "Norah loved a man ... he wasn't worthy. She could see
no hope. I wished, Frank, that you might have been there yesterday. You
used to cheer her so!"

"Don't!" he cried out sharply.

The Exposition progressed marvelously. Often Frank and Aleta climbed
the winding Presidio ascent and gazed upon its growing wonders.

"Beauty will come out of it all," she said one day. "Out of our travail
and sorrow and sin. I wish that Norah was here. She loved beauty so!"

"Perhaps she is here.... Who knows?"

She looked at him startled. He was staring off across the Exposition
site, toward the Golden Gate, where a great ship, all its sails spread,
swam mysteriously luminous with the sunset.

"It's beautiful," he said, a catch in his voice. "It's like life ...
coming home in the end ... after long strivings with tempest and wave. I
wonder--" he turned to her slowly, "Aleta, will it be like that
with us?"

"Home!" she spoke the word tenderly. "I wonder what it's like ... I've
never known."

He drew his breath sharply. "Aleta--will you marry me?"

Her eyes filled but she did not answer. Presently she shook her head.

He looked at her dumbly, questioning. "You don't love me, Frank," she
said at last.

He could not answer her. His eyes were on the ground. A hundred thoughts
came to his mind; thoughts of an almost overwhelming tenderness;
thoughts of reverence for her; of affection, comradeship. But they were
not the right thoughts. They were not what she wanted.

Presently they turned and went toward the town together.

* * * * *

A Fairyland of gardens and lagoons sprung into existence. Great artists
labored