glad notes of life among the leafy branches. As pure and sweet as a
desert lily, and as dainty as an apple blossom was this daughter of
Nevada. He who said "Truth is stranger than fiction" well nigh spoke
truthfully indeed.

Why wish to leave, Marjory, when you possessed youth, beauty and
loving friends; when the month was June and all the world rejoiced?
Indeed, why?

If Marjory's stiffened lips could have answered, she would have said:
"Yes, but my lover proved untrue: yesterday he was married to the
Queen of the Divorce Colony; today they are on their honeymoon, and I
am in the great unknown...."

It is between the hours of twilight and night. The last fading light
of the setting sun is reflected upon the waters of the Truckee River,
in a silvery, rose-tinted hue, indescribable in its delicate beauty.
There is a strange lady seated on the veranda of an imposing Colonial
home overlooking the river. She is writing; sometimes she stops to
gaze upon the glory of the sunset with great dreamy eyes, whose depths
seem unfathomable. How the soft twilight glow enshrines her face! But
now the sun has disappeared, yet the light seems still to cling about
her beautiful form. In a brighter light you might see that her lips
are crimson with the glow of youth, though her face is pale. Her hair,
parted in the middle and dressed straight back, and her white gown
give her the appearance of a Madonna. In her bodice, she wears a white
rose which from time to time she caresses in a dreamy fashion.....

Just here Eileen--her name is romantic isn't it?--is attracted by a
young man who comes up the street whistling as he walks full of the