The first one she bore bravely. But when the steel needle cut the flesh the second time, and the sharp pain sent its chill to her heart, the little face went white and she gasped: "Kiss me, Papa--Mama, quick--" They both bent at once, and the blond locks of the man mingled with the dark hair of the woman as their lips touched her face. The doctor paused, and Lucy smiled faintly. "I'm better now. I can stand it." Gordon felt a strange thrill to the last depths of his soul as he sat there holding one of his daughter's hands while Ruth held the other. A sense of mysterious unity with their life came over him. The little woman saw his emotion and knew its meaning. She bent close and, while a smile played around her eyes, whispered softly and triumphantly: "Frank, I'd go through another wreck for this." And the man was silent. At Florence, clothes were brought to the train, and those who had none were rigged out after a fashion for the return home. Not a passenger on the train wished to continue his journey except the fat drummer. He went on to the next station where he had intended to stop, as though nothing worth talking about had happened, and sold a bill of goods before dinner. Ruth and the children returned to New York on the first train, and Gordon and Kate followed on the next. Kate had scarcely spoken a word since he had lifted her from the wreck. She was in a deep reverie, but from the occasional gleam of her eyes Gordon knew she was passing through some great crisis. He wondered what the effects of this hour face to face with death would be on her character. He was amazed at the changes in Ruth since he had last seen her. She had blossomed into the perfect beauty of womanhood. Not a trace of anxiety was left on her face. Her great dark eyes were calm and soft. Her lips were fuller, and her complexion white and pink, wreathed in its raven hair. Her figure was now the perfection of the petite Spanish type, in full, voluptuous lines, yet erect, lithe, with small hands and feet and tiny wrists, her whole being breathing a spiritual charm. Grace, delicacy, and distinction were in every movement of her body, and over it all, an unconscious and winning dignity. After several hours of silence, as they sped back toward New York, Kate looked at him curiously and laughed. "You're not quite so handsome, Frank, in those trousers that stop at the top of your shoes and that coat that pauses just below your elbow." He held up his long, powerful arms and said, meditatively: "No. Gestures arrayed like that could hardly move an audience." The shadows fell across the blue eyes again and they swept him with a critical expression. "I didn't tell you that Ruth saved my life." Gordon turned suddenly.