t her lot
hard. She would now be glad to exchange forever and to ask no more.
Then, she feared. Now she knew that there were others, beside herself,
upon whom Elijah depended. Farther, she could not go, for she could not
see her own limitations.

At his office in Ysleta, Elijah found Helen Lonsdale bent over a map and
oblivious to her surroundings. A pad and pencil were at her elbow. She
was tracing the map with one finger which occasionally recurred to one
point, while with the other hand she was apparently recording memoranda.
Finally the maps were pushed aside and pad and pencil absorbed her
entire attention. There were pauses during which she looked at the map,
ran over her figures and then her pencil flew over the pad more rapidly
than before. At length she sat up straight, spread the slips of paper
before her, and, rolling her pencil meditatively between her fingers,
appeared absorbed in thought.

"You seem to be deeply interested." Elijah was standing at the door of
the inner office.

Helen turned her head sharply.

"You're just in time to sign these letters before the mail closes."

Elijah seated himself at his desk and signed the letters, as one by one,
she placed them before him.

"Do you want to look them over?" she asked.

"No, you never make mistakes."

She began reading and folding the letters.

"I think they are all right. You stamp them." She glanced at the clock.
"You'll have to hurry."

Elijah stamped the letters as she tossed them to him. As the last stamp
was affixed, she shuffled them together, and, with a glance over her
shoulder at the clock, started through the door.

"Have the boy take them over." Elijah called out.

"Boy and hurry aren't on intimate terms." She was already on the
threshold of the outer door. In a few moments she returned. "If I had
sent the boy, the letters would have lain over until tomorrow, I was
just in time." She drew a handkerchief over her flushed face. The
handkerchief was not purely ornamental, neither did it suggest unrefined
utilitarianism. It lacked lace, but not delicacy. The motion that swept
it over her face was decided, but not harsh. Her movements, as she
seated herself at her desk and turned her face full toward Elijah, were
quick, yet rhythmic and graceful. There was masculine alertness and
concentration; yet both were softened by a femininity, unobtrusive but
not to be ignored. For over six months, she had been "Helen" to him as
he was "Elija