Delia, a little flattered by such deference, hesitated. "I might bring his basket up here," she said; "he isn't a bit of trouble. He just goes to sleep and doesn't wake up until morning." As Delia opened the door to go down, the rippling measures of "The Spring Song," played softly, came up to them. Sophie had a vision of Diana in her shimmering gown, waiting in the moonlight for Anthony. Delia came back with the basket. It was of brown wicker with brown cushions. Peter, curled up in it, made a sunflower combination. "You are sure you're all right, Miss Sophie?" Delia asked as she stood on the threshold. "If you don't want the electric light, there's a candle on your table, and if you like the air straight from the sea you can open the door on the porch. Miss Diana used to like to lie and look at the moonlight." The whole world seemed obsessed by the moonlight. Its white radiance, when Mrs. Martens at last turned off the glaring bulbs, seemed to cast a spell over sea and land. She stepped out on the porch, and was awed by the beauty of the wide sweep of shining sky and sea. Then, far below on the hidden road, she heard the beat of a motor. The sound ceased and a man's quick step came up the path. There was the whirr of an electric bell, and she knew that Anthony had come. Well, Diana had her Anthony--and she had--Peter! She laughed a little to stifle a sigh. Diana had the substance--she her shadowy memories. A faint breeze had sprung up. The yachts tugged at their moorings as the tide turned. Far to the southeast Minot's light blinked its one-four-three--"I-warn-you"--message to the ships. Diana had once said of it, "The sweethearts off the coast translate it differently--'I-love-you.' That's what Anthony told me." How she had always quoted him! Even when for a brief time she had drifted toward that other, she had clung to her belief in Anthony's faith and goodness--and when she had shaken herself free she had flown back to him. And now--in the dim room below Diana was coming at last into her own! The little lady crept into bed, shivering--perhaps with the chill of the spring night, perhaps with the thought of the happiness from which she was left out. Presently she heard again the beat of the motor. Beginning in front of the house, it grew fainter in the distance; then silence, and at last a soft step on the stairs. "Sophie," there was that in Diana's voice which made her sit up and listen, "Sophie, are you asleep?" Mrs. Martens lighted the bedside candle with shaking hands. Diana came forward into the circle of light. Diana--with all of youth gone from her. Diana stripped of joy. Diana with the shimmering blue gown seeming to mock the tragedy in her face. She came up to the bed and stood looking down at her friend. "Listen, Sophie," she said, brokenly, "see what I've done. Anthony is engaged, Sophie. Engaged to another girl!" * * * * *