, the resurrection of burnt-out beliefs.

She shivered a bit under the blanket. It would be heavenly to hear the
temple bells--with youth beside her. To drink the wine of life from a
brimming cup. But all the time she would be afraid, nothing could take
away that fear.--Nothing, nothing, _nothing_.

She was glad that her husband was awake. The thin line of light still
showed beneath his door. It would be dreadful to be alone--in the dark.
At last she could stand it no longer. She got out of bed, wrapped
herself in a robe that lay at the foot of it, and opened the door.

"May I leave it open?"

As her husband turned in his chair, she saw his hand go quickly, as if
to cover the paper on which he was writing. "Of course, my dear. Are you
afraid?"

"I am always afraid, Ridgeley. Always--"

She put her hands up to her face and began to cry. He came swiftly
toward her and took her in his arms. "Hush," he said, "nothing can hurt
you, Anne."

VII

When she waked in the morning, it was with, the remembrance of his
tenderness. Well, of course he was sorry for her. Anybody would be. But
Christopher was sorry, too. And Christopher had something to offer
her--more than Ridgeley--yes, it was more--

She was half afraid to go down-stairs. Christopher would be at breakfast
on the porch. Jeanette would be there, pouring coffee, and perhaps
Ridgeley if he had no calls. And Christopher would talk in his gay young
voice--and Ridgeley would read the newspaper, and she and Christopher
would make their plans for the day--

She rose and began to dress, but found herself suddenly panic-stricken
at the thought of the plans that Christopher might make. If they motored
off together, he would talk to her as he had talked in the grove of
birches--of the temple bells, and of the desert, and the strange
harbors--and how could she be sure that she would be strong enough to
resist--and what if she listened, and let him have his way?

She decided to eat her breakfast in bed, and rang for it. A note came up
from Christopher. "Don't stay up-stairs. Ridgeley left hours ago, and I
shan't enjoy my toast and bacon if you aren't opposite me. I have picked
a white rose to put by your plate. And I have a thousand things to say
to you--"

His words had a tonic effect. Oh, why not--? What earthly difference
would it make? And hadn't Browning said something like that--"_Who knows
but the world may end to-night_?"

She was not sure that was qui