though she too had asked.

Vi said nothing, but her large, dark eyes suddenly looked away and
beyond the room. A flush rose slowly into her smooth, dusky cheek.
Blanche bit her under lip.

"Vi has won out," said H lne to Leighton.




CHAPTER XXVI


Natalie and her mother were sitting on the west veranda of Consolation
Cottage at the evening hour. Just within the open door of the
dining-room mammy swayed to and fro in a vast rocking-chair that looked
too big for her.

The years had not dealt kindly with the three. Years in the tropics
never do deal kindly with women. Mammy had grown old and thin. Her
clothes, frayed, but clean, hung loosely upon her. Her hair was turning
gray. She wore steel-rimmed glasses. Mrs. Leighton's face, while it had
not returned to the apathy of the years of sorrow at Nadir, was still
deeply lined and of the color and texture of old parchment. The blue of
her eyes had paled and paled until light seemed to have almost gone from
them. To Natalie had come age with youth. She gave the impression of a
freshly cut flower suddenly wilted by the sun.

In Mrs. Leighton's lap lay two letters. One had brought the news that