hat we
wanted more out of life than they--that we wouldn't be content with
half a loaf--that we wanted the bravest adventures, the yellowest
gold, the finest emotions, the greater power! And if now ...

"See those fights down there--so few--and so faint. We can't live
our lives there. Seventy-five dollars a month in the bank for
you--and dull, deadly monotony for both of us--no dreams--no
adventures--nothing big and fine! We can't be content with that! Why
don't you go, John?

"Don't mind me--don't let me keep you--for as soon as you've won,
you can come back to me--and then--we'll see the world together!"

"Janet--Janet!" said Harber, with pounding heart. "How do you
know--that I'll win?"

"Ah," she said strangely, "I know! You can't fail--_I won't let you
fail_"!

Harber caught her suddenly in his arms and kissed her as if it were
to be his last token of her.

"I'm going then!" he whispered. "I'm going!"

"When?"

"There's no time to be lost!" he said, thinking fast. "If I had
known that you were willing, that you would wait--if ... Janet, I'm
going to-morrow!"

Her arms tightened about him convulsively. "Promise me--promise me!"
she demanded tensely, "that you'll never, never forget me--that
you'll come back to me!"

Harber laughed in her face. "Janet," he said solemnly, "I'll never
forget you. I'll come back to you. I'll come back--'though 'twere
ten thousand mile!'"

And they walked home slowly, wrapt once more in their fascinating
talk, fanning the flames of one another's desires, painting for
their future the rich landscapes of paradise. Youth! Brave, hot youth!

The next day Harber contemptuously threw over his job in the bank
and fared forth into the wide world that was calling.

* * * * *

Well, he went south, then east, then west, and west, and farther west.
So far that presently, after three years, he found himself not west
at all, but east--far east. There were between him and Janet Spencer
now thousands on thousands of miles of vast heaving seas, and
snow-capped mountain ranges, and limitless grassy plains.

Three years of drifting! You'd say, perhaps, knowing the frailty of
vows, that the connection might have been lost. But it hadn't.
Harber was but twenty-three. Faithfulness, too, comes easier then
than later in life, when one has seen more of the world, when the
fine patina of illusion has worn off. Besides, there was, I'm sure,
a touch of genius ab