She must never know.--In the years to come, perhaps, he might tell her-- In the years to come-- He was turning away when a step on the piazza below made him come to the rail again and lean over. It was Phyl. She vanished and then reappeared again, leaving the lower piazza and coming right out into the garden. He waited till the sun had caught her in both hands, holding her against the background of the cherokee roses, then he called to her: "Phyl!" She started, turned, and looked up. THE END