break between him and Louis. Neale has changed a lot. Do you remember when we saw 'The Gods of the Mountain,' Sally? Well, he makes me think of that—only it's the other way around—as if something alive had turned to stone."
Sally shivered. "Think if I had married him."
"I refuse to think of it."
He described the house at Round Hill as he had found it. "Everything is in confusion. It gave me a queer feeling to see your wedding presents. Winslow is having them repacked, and your mother is superintending the job."
"She blames everything on me," his young wife informed him, "she told me so over the telephone yesterday. She says that her heart is broken and that I've done it." Sally was silent for a moment. "Louis will mend her heart for her," she went on presently, "it's inevitable. They will console each other for the sins of their rebellious daughters. The situation would be tragic for me, if I hadn't had it all my life to contend with." The red blood came up into Sally's cheeks. "Merry, if ever I . . . have a daughter . . . help me to show her how to grasp at the fine things, not at the shoddy and tawdry ones. . . ."
"Please God . . ." his voice broke, he swept her into his arms.
Late that night as they started upstairs, Sally said, "Do you thing she will marry Crispin?"
"Hildegarde?"
"Yes."
"I hope so."
She was smiling down at him. There was no shadow
