would worship consistently. Nan suddenly yielded to the driving force at
the back of his speech.

"Listen to this, then," she said. "It's a setting to some words I came
across the other day."

She handed him a slip of paper on which the words were written and his
eyes ran swiftly down the verses of the brief lyric:


EMPTY HANDS

Away in the sky, high over our heads,
With the width of a world between,
The far Moon sails like a shining ship
Which the Dreamer's eyes have seen.

And empty hands are out-stretched in vain,
While aching eyes beseech,
And hearts may break that cry for the Moon,
The silver Moon out of reach!

But sometimes God on His great white Throne
Looks down from the Heaven above,
And lays in the hands that are empty
The tremulous Star of Love.


Nan played softly, humming the melody in the wistful little pipe of a
voice which was all that Mature had endowed her with. But it had an