Cyclona fashioned the threshold of marble, she built the stairway spacious, she had the low divan carved in cedar and placed it before a wide and sunny window in the music room. She placed there mandolins and guitars. She ordered a piano made of cedar for the music room. She had antique and gorgeous pillows embroidered by deft fingers for the low divan, then went on to the bed-room of white and gold, of which Seth had delighted to dream. She ordered pier-glasses, so many that Hugh began to fear indeed for her sanity. She bought spindle-legged furniture of gold and scattered it about. She covered the gold bedstead with lace of the rarest. She hung curtains at the sunny window, but curtains of so lacey a web that no possible ray of light could they exclude. "Exquisite!" exclaimed Hugh, "but must you have gold door knobs?" "We must," answered Cyclona; and people came in wonder to look at the beautiful house whose gold door knobs passed into one of the many traditions of the excess of insanity displayed by the very rich of that marvellous boom in their expenditure of money. Cyclona caused the cellar to be lighted, according to Seth's directions, until there was no dark spot in it. Light gleamed throughout, if not the light of day, the light of electrics. "I never in my life," declared Hugh, "saw so light a cellar. It is like a conservatory." By the time the house was finished, it was the wonder of the Magic City, which itself was the wonder of the West for its beautiful houses. Then, when carpenter, painter, wood-carver and decorator had departed, and the house stood in the sunshine, a gem of a house, surpassing, if possible, in beauty, the house of Seth's imaginings, he came to Cyclona for the last time in a dream. He stood in the dimness of a low-roofed room, looking out of a window. His face was inexpressibly sad. He stood there stilly for a long time, looking out of the window. Then there rushed through Cyclona's dream the heavy whirring roar of the wind, the moan of the wind, the wail of the wind. Cyclona started out of the dream with a cry. What had happened? What was it? What was it? It was as if her life had gone out all at once like the flame of a candle. It was as if her heart-strings had snapped asunder. What was it? What was it? She lay back among her pillows, trembling in the dark, afraid of she knew not what, her wide eyes agaze at the ceiling's shadows. And then after a long while she fell asleep again and once more dreamed. The wind soughed through her dream again, pitifully, wailingly, as it had often soughed outside the dugout. Presently it dropped to a whisper and the passing gleam of clouds let in a slab of sunlight through the window. Was Seth in the dugout then, or in that other room? Whichever it was, the sunlight rested goldenly on the calmness of his face. It glorified it.