When they separated again there were tears in the eyes of both. Just before the curtain of trees quite closed the view of the gate, Aladdin turned to look at Peter. Peter sat upon one of the big stones that marked the entrance, smoking and smoking. He had thrown aside his hat, and his hair shone in the sun. There was a kind of wistfulness in his poise, and his calm, pure eyes were lifted toward the open sky. A great hero-worship surged in Aladdin’s heart, and he thought that there was nothing that he would not do for such a friend. “He gave you your life once,” said a little voice in Aladdin’s heart; “give him his. He is worth a million of you; don’t stand in his way.” Aladdin turned and went on, and the well-known house came into view, but he saw only the splendid, wistful man at the gate, waiting calmly, as a gentleman should, for life or death, and smoking smoking. Even as he made his resolve, a lump of self-pity rose in Aladdin’s throat. That was the old Adam in him, the base clay out of which springs the fair flower of self-sacrifice. He tried a variety of smiles, for he wished to be easy in the difficult part which he had so suddenly, and in the face of all the old years, elected to play. “He must know by the look of me,” said Aladdin, “that I do not love her any more, for, God help me, I can’t say it.” He found her on the broad rear veranda of the house. And instead of going up to her and taking her in his arms,--for he had planned this meeting often, as the stars could tell, he stood rooted, and said: “Hallo, Margaret!” He acted better than he knew, for the great light which had blazed for one instant in her eyes on first seeing him went out like a snuffed candle, and he did not see it or know that it had blazed. Therefore his own cruelty was hidden from him, and his part became easier to play. They shook hands, and even then, if he had not been blinded with the egotism of self-sacrifice, he might have seen. That was his last chance. For Margaret’s heart cried to her, “It is over,” and in believing it, suddenly, and as she thought forever, an older sweetness came in her face. “You’ve changed, Aladdin,” she said. “Yes, I’m thinner, if possible,” said Aladdin, “almost willowy. Do you think it’s becoming?” “I am not sure,” said Margaret. “The fact remains that I’m more than glad to see you.” Aladdin fumbled for speech. “I’m still a little lame, you see,” he said apologetically, and took several steps to show. “Very!” said Margaret, in such a voice that Aladdin wondered what she meant. “But it doesn’t hurt any more.” “Then that’s all right.” “Where’s Jack?” he asked at length. Margaret became very grave. “I’m afraid we’ve betrayed our trust, Aladdin,” she said. “Because only yesterday he slipped away and left a little note to say that he was going to enlist. We’re very much distressed about it.” “Perhaps it’s better so,” said Aladdin, “if he really wanted to go. Did he leave any address?”