fell asleep. When she awakened it was five o'clock. The fire in the stove
was out, but the water was still warm. She bathed and dressed, not without
care, yet as swiftly as was her habit at home; and she wore white because
Glenn had always liked her best in white. But it was assuredly not a gown
to wear in a country house where draughts of cold air filled the unheated
rooms and halls. So she threw round her a warm sweater-shawl, with colorful
bars becoming to her dark eyes and hair.

All the time that she dressed and thought, her very being seemed to be
permeated by that soft murmuring sound of falling water. No moment of
waking life there at Lolomi Lodge, or perhaps of slumber hours, could be
wholly free of that sound. It vaguely tormented Carley, yet was not
uncomfortable. She went out upon the porch. The small alcove space held a
bed and a rustic chair. Above her the peeled poles of the roof descended to
within a few feet of her head. She had to lean over the rail of the porch
to look up. The green and red rock wall sheered ponderously near. The
waterfall showed first at the notch of a fissure, where the cliff split;
and down over smooth places the water gleamed, to narrow in a crack with
little drops, and suddenly to leap into a thin white sheet.

Out from the porch the view was restricted to glimpses between the pines,
and beyond to the opposite wall of the canyon. How shut-in, how walled in
this home!

"In summer it might be good to spend a couple of weeks here," soliloquized
Carley. "But to live here? Heavens! A person might as well be buried."

Heavy footsteps upon the porch below accompanied by a man's voice quickened
Carley's pulse. Did they belong to Glenn? After a strained second she
decided not. Nevertheless, the acceleration of her blood and an unwonted