to-night Carmen made him sip a
little iced champagne, and she drank to the success of his first visit
East since boyhood--to his safe and speedy home-coming.

"Because this is home, Nick; your home," she said. "It would kill me if
you saw any place you liked better, and if you made up your mind that you
wanted to sell out and live in New York."

"No fear," said Nick. "No man ever left paradise unless he was driven out
by flaming swords."

"Then you won't be gone long?" she asked, playing with the abalone chowder
on her plate.

"Not more than a month anyhow; maybe a few days less if I get homesick;
though it would hardly be worth while to go so far for a shorter time,
after staying West so many years without a single break. First, I count on
poking round in some of our old haunts--poor mother's and mine--and then,
when I am way down in the dumps I'll yank myself up again with a little
fun--theatres and roof-gardens and such-like."

"You've seen good plays in San Francisco," said Carmen.

"Yes, San Franciso's a great place. Only I haven't had time to go there
once in a blue moon. And just now it's those old associations
pulling--something seems drawing and drawing me to the East. It's like a
voice calling my name--'Nick--Nick, I want you. Come!' Funny, isn't it?"

Carmen was not sure that it was funny. For she was superstitious beyond
all things; and at that moment it happened that she could hear the moaning
note of doves--a sound which she believed always brought her bad luck.

"What kind of a voice is it?" she asked, laughing rather shrilly. "Not a
woman's, I hope?"

"I guess it's that angel's I was telling you about." Nick smiled.

Carmen motioned the Chinese butler to fill her guest's glass, which he had
hardly touched.

"Don't let's talk any more of angels," she said. "Let's talk of me, and
you. Nick, do you know what to-night is? A year since I was free. 'At the
end of a year' I always said to myself. 'Twelve long months of
hypocritical respect paid to the memory of a person who was more brute
than man. But not a day more, when the twelve months are over.
Then--happiness--new life!' Don't you consider I'm justified in feeling
like that?"

Nick thought for a moment, not looking at Carmen. He gazed out through the
torn curtain of roses into the silver of the moonlight, over the wide lawn
with its fountains, toward the walls of trees which screened from sight
the rolling billows of the ranch-meadows with