file into their places. She had no interest now in the bishop's robes or
the lighted tapers or cryptic inscriptions. Throughout the long service
her attention was riveted on the handsome, white-robed figure which sat
in a posture of bored resignation, wearing an expression of Christian
martyrdom.

When the recessional sounded, she rose with the rest of the congregation,
still keeping behind the protecting back of the man in front. But when
she saw Mac lift the shining cross and come toward her down the chancel
steps at the head of the singing procession, something made her move
suddenly to the end of the pew, straight into the shaft of light that
streamed through the great west window.

Mac, with his foot on the lowest step, paused for the fraction of a
second, and the cross that he held swayed slightly. Then he caught step
again and moved steadily forward.

Nance hurried away before the benediction. She was never going to do it
again, she promised herself repeatedly. And yet, how wonderful it had
been! Straight over the heads of the congregation for their eyes to meet
like that, and for him to remember as she was remembering!

For three weeks she kept her promise and resolutely stayed away from the
cathedral. One would have to be "goin' on nineteen" and live in Calvary
Alley to realize the heroic nature of her moral struggle. Victory might
have been hers in the end, had not Dan Lewis for the first time in years,
failed one Saturday to spend his half-holiday with her. He had come of
late, somber and grimly determined to give her no peace until he knew the
truth. But Dan, even in that mood, was infinitely better than no Dan at
all. When he sent her word that he was going with some of the men from