id you come from?"

"From town. Let me stand in your kitchen, or somewhere."

"You're wet through. I can't offer you much change."

"Not as wet as when you first met me, Dennison," she said, with a smile.
"I have a good waterproof, but my hat blew off. It's somewhere on the
road. I couldn't see through the windshield, so I put my head out, and
away it went."

"The hat?"

Then both laughed, and an atmosphere that had been tense began to settle
back to normal. Grant led her out to the living-room, removed her coat,
and started a fire.

"So you drove out over those roads?" he said, when the smoke began to
curl up around the logs. "You had your courage."

"It wasn't courage, Dennison; it was terror. Fear sometimes makes one
wonderfully brave. After I saw Frank off I went to the hotel. I had a
room on the west side, and instead of going to bed I sat by the window
looking out at the storm and at the wet streets. I could see the
flashes of lightning striking down as though they were aimed at definite
objects, and I began to think of Wilson, and of you. You see, it was the
first night I had ever spent away from him, and I began to think....

"After a while I could bear it no longer, and I rushed down and out to
the garage. There was just one young man on night duty, and I'm sure
he thought me crazy. When he couldn't dissuade me he wanted to send a
driver with me. You know I couldn't have that."

She was looking squarely at him, her face strangely calm and
emotionless. Grant nodded that he followed her reasoning.

"So here I am," she continued. "No doubt you think me silly, too. You
are not a mother."

"I think I understand," he answered, tenderly. "I think I do."

They sat in silence for some time, and presently they became aware of
a grey light displacing the yellow glow from the lamp and the ruddy
reflections of the fire. "It is morning," said Grant. "I believe the
storm has cleared."

He stood beside her chair and took her hand in his. "Let us watch the
dawn break on the mountains," he said, and together they moved to the
windows that overlooked the valley and the grim ranges beyond. Already
shafts of crimson light were firing the scattered drift of clouds far
overhead....

"Dennison," she said at length, turning her face to his, "I hope you
will understand, but--I have thought it all over. I have not hidden my
heart from you. For the boy's sake, and for your sake, and for the sake
of 'a scrap of paper'--th