on the way to bed, a bare-legged youngster was led by a chiding
Japanese nurse-maid. The voices of the singers broke softly and
meltingly into an Hawaiian love-song, and officers and women, with
encircling arms, were gliding and whirling on the lanai; and once
again the woman laughed under the algaroba trees.

And Percival Ford knew only disapproval of it all. He was irritated
by the love-laugh of the woman, by the steersman with pillowed head
on the white holoku, by the couples that walked on the beach, by the
officers and women that danced, and by the voices of the singers
singing of love, and his brother singing there with them under the
hau tree. The woman that laughed especially irritated him. A
curious train of thought was aroused. He was Isaac Ford's son, and
what had happened with Isaac Ford might happen with him. He felt in
his cheeks the faint heat of a blush at the thought, and experienced
a poignant sense of shame. He was appalled by what was in his
blood. It was like learning suddenly that his father had been a
leper and that his own blood might bear the taint of that dread
disease. Isaac Ford, the austere soldier of the Lord--the old
hypocrite! What difference between him and any beach-comber? The
house of pride that Percival Ford had builded was tumbling about his
ears.

The hours passed, the army people laughed and danced, the native
orchestra played on, and Percival Ford wrestled with the abrupt and
overwhelming problem that had been thrust upon him. He prayed
quietly, his elbow on the table, his head bowed upon his hand, with
all the appearance of any tired onlooker. Between the dances the
army men and women and the civilians fluttered up to him and buzzed
conventionally, and when they went back to the lanai he took up his