unlight；　and　they　seemed　dreaming；　waiting；　watching。　For　what？　For　her　return　to　their　serene　fastnessesto　the　little　gray　log　cabin。　The　thought　stormed　Carley's　soul。
  Vivid　and　intense　shone　the　images　before　her　shut　eyes。　She　saw　the　winding　forest　floor；　green　with　grass　and　fern；　colorful　with　flower　and　rock。　A　thousand　aisles；　glades；　nooks；　and　caverns　called　her　to　come。　Nature　was　every　woman's　mother。　The　populated　city　was　a　delusion。　Disease　and　death　and　corruption　stalked　in　the　shadows　of　the　streets。　But　her　canyon　promised　hard　work；　playful　hours；　dreaming　idleness；　beauty；　health；　fragrance；　loneliness；　peace；　wisdom；　love；　children；　and　long　life。　In　the　hateful　shut…in　isolation　of　her　room　Carley　stretched　forth　her　arms　as　if　to　embrace　the　vision。　Pale　close　walls；　gleaming　placid　stretches　of　brook；　churning　amber　and　white　rapids；　mossy　banks　and　pine…matted　ledges；　the　towers　and　turrets　and　ramparts　where　the　eagles　wheeledshe　saw　them　all　as　beloved　images　lost　to　her　save　in　anguished　memory。
  She　heard　the　murmur　of　flowing　water；　soft；　low；　now　loud；　and　again　lulling；　hollow　and　eager；　tinkling　over　rocks；　bellowing　into　the　deep　pools；　washing　with　silky　seep　of　wind…swept　waves　the　hanging　willows。　Shrill　and　piercing　and　far…aloft　pealed　the　scream　of　the　eagle。　And　she　seemed　to　listen　to　a　mocking　bird　while　he　mocked　her　with　his　melody　of　many　birds。　The　bees　hummed；　the　wind　moaned；　the　leaves　rustled；　the　waterfall　murmured。　Then　came　the　sharp　rare　note　of　a　canyon　swift；　most　mysterious　of　birds；　significant　of　the　heights。
  A　breath　of　fragrance　seemed　to　blow　with　her　shifting　senses。　The　dry；　sweet；　tangy　canyon　smells　returned　to　herof　fresh…cut　timber；　of　wood　smoke；　of　the　cabin　fire　with　its　steaming　pots；　of　flowers　and　earth；　and　of　the　wet　stones；　of　the　redolent　pines　and　the　pungent　cedars。
  And　suddenly；　clearly；　amazingly；　Carley　beheld　in　her　mind's　sight　the　hard　features；　the　bold　eyes；　the　slight　smile；　the　coarse　face　of　Haze　Ruff。　She　had　forgotten　him。　But　he　now　returned。　And　with　memory　of　him　flashed　a　revelation　as　to　his　meaning　in　her　life。　He　had　appeared　merely　a　clout；　a　ruffian；　an　animal　with　man's　shape　and　intelligence。　But　he　was　the　embodiment　of　the　raw；　crude　violence　of　the　West。　He　was　the　eyes　of　the　natural　primitive　man；　believing　what　he　saw。　He　had　seen　in　Carley　Burch　the　paraded　charm；　the　unashamed　and　serene　front；　the　woman　seeking　man。　Haze　Ruff　had　been　neither　vile　nor　base　nor　unnatural。　It　had　been　her　subjection　to　the　decadence　of　feminine　dress　that　had　been　unnatural。　But　Ruff　had　found　her　a　lie。　She　invited　what　she　did　not　want。　And　his　scorn　had　been　commensurate　with　the　falsehood　of　her。　So　might　any　man　have　been　justified　in　his　insult　to　her；　in　his　rejection　of　her。　Haze　Ruff　had　found　her　unfit　for　his　idea　of　dalliance。　Virgil　Rust　had　found　her　false　to　the　ideals　of　womanhood　for　which　he　had　sacrificed　all　but　life　itself。　What　then　had　Glenn　Kilbourne　found　her？　He　possessed　the　greatness　of　noble　love。　He　had　loved　her　before　the　dark　and　changeful　tide　of　war　had　come　between　them。　How　had　he　judged　her？　That　last　sight　of　him　standing　alone；　leaning　with　head　bowed；　a　solitary　figure　trenchant　with　suggestion　of　tragic　resignation　and　strength；　returned　to　flay　Carley。　He　had　loved；　trusted；　and　hoped。　She　saw　now　what　his　hope　had　been…that　she　would　have　instilled　into　her　blood　the　subtle；　red；　and　revivifying　essence　of　calling　life　in　the　open；　the　strength　of　the　wives　of　earlier　years；　an　emanation　from　canyon；　desert；　mountain；　forest；　of　health；　of　spirit；　of　forward…gazing　natural　love；　of　the　mysterious　saving　instinct　he　had　gotten　out　of　the　West。　And　she　had　been　too　little　too　steeped　in　the　indulgence　of　luxurious　life　too　slight…natured　and　pale…blooded！　And　suddenly　there　pierced　into　the　black　storm　of　Carley's　mind　a　blazing；　white…streaked　thoughtshe　had　left　Glenn　to　the　Western　girl；　Flo　Hutter。　Humiliated；　and　abased　in　her　own　sight；　Carley　fell　prey　to　a　fury　of　jealousy。
  She　went　back　to　the　old　life。　But　it　was　in　a　bitter；　restless；　critical　spirit；　conscious　of　the　fact　that　she　could　derive　neither　forgetfulness　nor　pleasure　from　it；　nor　see　any　release　from　the　habit　of　years。
  One　afternoon；　late　in　the　fall；　she　motored　out　to　a　Long　Island　club　where　the　last　of　the　season's　golf　was　being　enjoyed　by　some　of　her　most　intimate　friends。　Carley　did　not　play。　Aimlessly　she　walked　around　the　grounds；　finding　the　autumn　colors　subdued　and　drab；　like　her　mind。　The　air　held　a　promise　of　early　winter。　She　thought　that　she　would　go　South　before　the　cold　came。　Always　trying　to　escape　anything　rigorous；　hard；　painful；　or　disagreeable！　Later　she　returned　to　the　clubhouse　to　find　her　party　assembled　on　an　inclosed　porch；　chatting　and　partaking　of　refreshment。　Morrison　was　there。　He　had　not　taken　kindly　to　her　late　habit　of　denying　herself　to　him。
  During　a　lull　in　the　idle　conversation　Morrison　addressed　Carley　pointedly。　〃Well；　Carley；　how's　your　Arizona　hog…raiser？〃　he　queried；　with　a　little　gleam　in　his　usually　lusterless　eyes。
  〃I　have　not　heard　lately；〃　she　replied；　coldly。
  The　assembled　company　suddenly　quieted　with　a　portent　inimical　to　their　leisurely　content　of　the　moment。　Carley　felt　them　all　looking　at　her；　and　underneath　the　exterior　she　preserved　with　extreme　difficulty；　there　burned　so　fierce　an　anger　that　she　seemed　to　have　swelling　veins　of　fire。
  〃Queer　how　Kilbourne　went　into　raising　hogs；〃　observed　Morrison。　〃Such　a　low…down　sort　of　work；　you　know。〃
  〃He　had　no　choice；〃　replied　Carley。　〃Glenn　didn't　have　a　father　who　made　tainted　millions　out　of　the　war。　He　had　to　work。　And　I　must　differ　with　you　about　its　being　low…down。　No　honest　work　is　that。　It　is　idleness　that　is　low　down。〃
  〃But　so　foolish　of　Glenn　when　he　might　have　married　money；〃　rejoined　Morrison；　sarcastcally。
  〃The　honor　of　soldiers　is　beyond　your　ken；　Mr。　Morrison。〃
  He　flushed　darkly　and　bit　his　lip。
  〃You　women　make　a　man　sick　with　this　rot　about　soldiers；〃　he　said；　the　gleam　in　his　eye　growing　ugly。　〃A　uniform　goes　to　a　woman's　head　no　matter　what's　inside　it。　I　don't　see　where　your　vaunted　honor　of　soldiers　comes　in　considering　how　they　accepted　the　let…down　of　women　during　and　after　the　war。〃
  〃How　could　you　see　when　you　stayed　comfortably　at　home？〃　retorted　Carley。
  〃All　I　could　see　was　women　falling　into　soldiers'　arms；〃　he　said；　sullenly。
  〃Certainly。　Could　an　American　girl　desire　any　greater　happinessor　opportunity　to　prove　her　gratitude？〃　flashed　Carley；　with　proud　uplift　of　head。
  〃It　didn't　look　like　gratitude　to　me；〃　returned　Morrison。
  〃Well；　it　was　gratitude；〃　declared　Carley；　ringingly。　〃If　women　of　America　did　throw　themselves　at　soldiers　it　was　not　owing　to　the　moral　lapse　of　the　day。　It　was　woman's　instinct　to　save　the　race！　Always；　in　every　war；　women　have　sacrificed　themselves　to　the　future。　Not　vile；　but　noble！　。　。　。　You　insult　both　soldiers　and　women；　Mr。　Morrison。　I　wonderdid　any　American　girls　throw　themselves　at　you？〃
  Morrison　turned　a　dead　white；　and　his　mouth　twisted　to　a　distorted　checking　of　speech；　disagreeable　to　see。
  〃No；　you　were　a　slacker；〃　went　on　Carley；　with　scathing　scorn。　〃You　let　the　other　men　go　fight　for　American　girls。　Do　you　imagine　one　of　them　will　ever　marry　you？　。　。　。　All　your　life；　Mr。　Morrison；　you　will　be　a　marked　man…　…outside　the　pale　of　friendship　with　real　American　men　and　the　respect　of　real　American　girls。〃
  Morrison　leaped　up；　almost　knocking　the　table　over；　and　he　glared　at　Carley　as　he　gathered　up　his　hat　and　cane。　She　turned　her　back　upon　him。　From　that　moment　he　ceased　to　exist　for　Carley。　She　never　spoke　to　him　again。
  Next　day　Carley　called　upon　her　dearest　friend；　whom　she　had　not　seen　for　some　time。
  〃Carley　dear；　you　don't　look　so　very　well；〃　said　Eleanor；　after　greetings　had　been　exchanged。
  〃Oh；　what　does　it　matter　how　I　look？〃　queried　Carley；　impatiently。
  〃You　were　so　wonderful　when　you　got　home　from　Arizona。〃
  〃If　I　was　wonderful　and　am　now　commonplace　you　can　thank　your　old　New　York　for　it。〃
  〃Carley；　don't　you　care　for　New　York　any　more？〃　asked　Eleanor。
  〃Oh；　New　York　is　all　right；　I　suppose。　It's　I　who　am　wrong。〃
  〃My　dear；　you　puzzle　me　these　days。　You've　changed。　I'm　sorry。　I'm　afraid　you're　unhappy。〃
  〃Me？　Oh；　impossible！　I'm　in　a　seventh　heaven；〃　replied　Carley；　with　a　hard　little　laugh。　〃What　're　you　doing　this　afternoon？　Let's　go　outridingor　somewhere。〃
  〃I'm　expecting　the　dressmaker。〃
  〃Where　are　you　going　to…night？〃
  〃Dinner　and　theater。　It's　a　party；　or　I'd　ask　you。〃
  〃What　did　you　do　yesterday　and　the　day　before；　and　the　days　before　that？〃
  Eleanor　laughed　indulgently；　and　acquainted　Carley　with　a　record　of　her　social　wanderings　during　the　last　few　days。
  〃The　same　old　things…over　and　over　again！　Eleanor　don't　you　get　sick　of　it？〃　queried　Carley。
  〃Oh　yes；　to　tell　the　truth；〃　returned　Eleanor；　thoughtfully。　〃But　there's　nothing　else　to　do。〃
  〃Eleanor；　I'm　no　better　than　you；〃　said　Carley；　with　disdain。　〃I'm　as　useless　and　idle。　But　I'm　beginning　to　see　myselfand　youand　all　this　rotten　crowd　of　ours。　We're　no　good。　But　you're　married；　Eleanor。　Yo