But the kind eyes looked down at her so searchingly, so gravely, that
her own eyes filled with tears.

"Come, come," said the voice, "this won't do at all. You must not lose
your grip, you know. It will be all right to-morrow. Take the
afternoon off and get out into the fresh air."

And something in his voice--something in his grave, steady, eyes--told
her--made her feel that he understood. It helped her to know that this
man of large affairs, of power and authority, understood.

So, for that afternoon, she went to a park in a distant part of the
city to escape, for a few hours, the things that were crowding her too
closely. Near the entrance of the park, she met a gray haired
policeman who, looking at her keenly, smiled kindly and touched his
hat; then, before she had passed from sight, he turned to follow
leisurely the path that she had taken. Finding a quiet nook on the
bank of a little stream that was permitted to run undisturbed by the
wise makers of the park, the woman seated herself, while the
policeman, unobserved by her, paused not far away to watch a group of
children at play.

[Illustration: The life that crowded her so closely drifted far, far
away.]

Perhaps it was the blue sky, unstained by the city smoke: perhaps it
was the sunbeams that filtered through the leafy net-work of the trees
to fall in golden flakes and patches on the soft green: perhaps it was
the song that the little brook was singing as it went its merry way: