ironwoods. Surely, surely she could not absolutely ignore such a plea as that. But no call came. After an hour he went softly and brushed aside the sheltering boughs; perhaps the curtain had gone up and he had not heard. But no, there was still only the grey wall like a dense curtain of fog hanging between them, and no sound came from beyond it. And yet, yes, he did hear something, coming faintly through the barrier—it was Evalani singing the little boy to sleep with one of the old Hawaiian melodies. He stood still, his head bent against the soft green boughs and closed his eyes for a few moments; and then he let the tassels fall back into place and returned to his pacing of the lanai, his heart heavy and brooding and his soul sick with longing and discouragement, and his ability to plan and hope practically dead.
However, the next morning he went back, doggedly, to work. He had only one remaining possibility. He would keep an eye upon the curve of the road, as he could see it from his desk; and if Evalani should go forth for a walk, as had been her practice, he would watch for her return, and when he saw her round the curve, he would go out and intercept her as she passed his house. They had never made a practice of walking together; for once when he had proposed it, she had shaken her head and said quietly that she thought it would not be wise; and he had instantly seen that she was right, since the
