“Yes. Didn’t you guess? I had an idea that you did, and that that was one reason for your keeping so near me all that evening in the box. I had the insane impulse to kill myself then and there, and spoil Alan’s first night!” She laughed a little, though shakily, at the recollection. “It was ridiculous, melodramatic, anything you like, but women have done such things, and—and I’m afraid I am rather that sort. I meant to do it, anyway.” “And—why didn’t you? You had the revolver; I felt it in your bag on the back of the chair. Why didn’t you?” He had not known that a woman’s eyes could hold so much light. “You know,” she said softly and soberly. “You were there. You had come into my life. The false gods go when the gods arrive!” There was a long stillness between them, in which neither of them stirred, nor took their eyes away. “You—love me?” Jim said, in a queer voice. “Yes.” When he let her leave his arms, it was only that he might look again into her eyes and touch that wonderful golden hair, now loose and soft about her face. “It—it isn’t dyed!” she said hastily. “I did make up, but my hair was always that color—truly!” “Oh, my dear, my dear!” he laughed, though with tears and tenderness behind the laughter. “What do I care whether it is dyed or not? It’s just a part of you.” A little later a whimsical idea came to him. “You know,” he said, “the inspector said to me yesterday that in drawing in our nets we sometimes found that we had captured some birds that we had never expected. I didn’t know how right he was, for—we two seem to have caught the Blue Bird of Happiness, after all!” “And I am sure,” said Grace Templeton solemnly, “that no one ever really caught it before!” THE END. ———————————————— End of Book ———————————————— Transcriber’s Note (continued) Errors in punctuation and simple typos have been corrected without note. Variations in spelling, hyphenation, accents, etc., have been left as they appear in the original publication unless as stated in the following: