"It appears to me," he continued, "all the circumstances I have mentioned being taken into consideration, that you two friends that I love so well have so many times saved one another's lives that no one living has the slightest right to think or to act as might have been the case if you had not passed so entirely from his ken, and his plans, and daily existence. His claims to your resurrected selves are--different, let us say, or secondary." The silence that fell for a moment became acutely painful. "That's all I'm really driving at, after all my long and labored preamble," Fenton concluded, deliberately rising and facing about to confront the pair on the bench. "I recognize certain inevitable things--and I know they're right--and the way the Almighty intended.... Don't let me lose my friends again.... Let's all be sensible.... I don't ask or expect to be loved the way you love one another--but I'd like to be old Gerald to you both." He turned and went slowly down the narrow stairs, and his pipe trailed a spark behind him. * * * * * After a time, when Grenville moved over and placed his arm about Elaine, she struggled for a moment, feebly. "I don't--I don't love you in the least!" she protested. "I hate you--as I always have--and the way I always shall!" Her arms went swiftly about his neck, however, in a passionate, fierce little hug. She was laughing and crying together. "All right," said Grenville, calmly. "That's the kind of hate I want." He kissed her once on her upturned lips for every hour they had suffered. THE END