"They certainly have done that. Many a brilliant young fellow, with more ability than I, eats out his heart unrecognised, sterilised for lack of what came to me because of your influence." "It is well to look at it in that way for the present," said his father. He sat silent for a while, staring through the dusk at the lighted windows of houses in the rear. Then: "I have meant to say, Duane, that I--we"--he found a little difficulty in choosing his words--"that the Trust Company's officers feel that, for the present, it is best for them to reconsider their offer that you should undertake the mural decoration of the new building." "Oh," said Duane, "I'm sorry!--but it's all right, father." "I told them you'd take it without offence. I told them that I'd tell you the reason we do not feel quite ready to incur, at this moment, any additional expenses." "Everybody is economising," said Duane cheerfully, "so I understand. No doubt--later----" "No doubt," said his father gravely. The son's attitude was careless, untroubled; he dropped one long leg over the other knee, and idly examining his cigar, cast one swift level look at the older man: "Father?" "Yes, my son." "I--it just occurred to me that if you happen to have any temporary use for what you very generously set aside for me, don't stand on ceremony." There ensued a long silence. It was his bedtime when Colonel Mallett stirred in his holland-covered armchair and stood up. "Thank you, my son," he said simply; they shook hands and separated; the father to sleep, if he could; the son to go out into the summer night, walk to his nearest club, and write his daily letter to the woman he loved: "Dear, it is not at all bad in town--not that murderous, humid heat that you think I'm up against; and you must stop reproaching yourself for enjoying the delicious breezes in the Adirondacks. Women don't know what a jolly time men have in town. Follows the chronical of this August day: "I had your letter; that is breeze enough for me; it was all full of blue sky and big white clouds and the scent of Adirondack pines. Isn't it jolly for you and Kathleen to be at the Varicks' camp! And what a jolly crowd you've run into. "I note what you say about your return to the Berkshires, and that you expect to be at Berkshire Pass Inn with the motor on Monday. Give my love to Naida; I know you three and young Montross will have a bully tour through the hill country. "I also note your red-pencil cross at the top of the page--which always gives me, as soon as I open a letter of yours, the assurance that all is still well with you and that victory still remains with you. Thank God! Stand steady, little girl, for the shadows are flying and the dawn is ours.