seen it. Lawsee, Mistuh Merry, Ise gwine sing 'Praise Gawd' ev'y mawin' twel the weddin' day."
"I'm not exactly happy to see Miss Sally marry Mr. Winslow."
"I ain' caring who she marry. Effen she do'an like 'im, nobody kin mek her have 'im. Miss Sally got a min' of her own, ain't she? I ain' feelin' sorry for 'er lessen she's sorry for huhse'f."
They laughed at that, and she went away. They heard her voice presently as she made the bed upstairs.
"I'se reached the lan' of cawn and wine," sang Delia. And meant it. She hadn't a care in the world. With a wedding in prospect why worry?
The front door was wide open, the moonlight pouring down through the Blue Window illumined the steps and lower hall. "Shall we sit on the landing," Merry said, "it's a wonderful night."
Crispin wished he were alone. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He wanted to look out quietly on infinite space and think of Hildegarde.
As if the other understood his mood, he talked little. There were long stretches of silence. At last Merry said:
"This place speaks of her, doesn't it?"
"Hildegarde? Yes."
"You know of course that I love her, Harlowe? I might as well tell you. I've been looking upon you as my rival in the field. But one can't have a rival when one has given up—the fight."
He rose and stood looking out of the window. "I'd have fought through to the end if there had been a
